


The New Girl

by Springmagpies



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies
Summary: When Jemma Simmons moves into a new apartment with three new roommates, she gets more than she could have ever hoped for.





	1. The New Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was originally on my Tublr, but I have moved it here to make it into more of a multi-chapter fic! Hope you enjoy this New Girl inspired fan fic!

It had suddenly dawned on Jemma Simmons, as she sat nervously in a remarkably comfy chair in a remarkably sun-drenched apartment, that maybe her friend had been right in telling her not trust an ad on Craigslist. In all fairness, the ad had made it appear that the apartment she had been looking to room in was being rented out by women and not the three men sitting in front of her.  


Jemma didn’t really know where to start the conversation. The men sat whispering to each other, the man in the middle seemingly over the other two, as she sat, clicking her heels together nervously. She hadn’t been expecting this twist in her plan. She desperately needed a new place, having spent the last week dealing with her incredibly loyal, wonderful, and terrible roommate material of a friend, Daisy, and this apartment was the only reasonable thing she had been able to find in her price range.  


When they had finished their whispering, the three men sat back casually into the couch (or false casually), each displaying their personalities greatly without them even realizing. They seemed nice enough to Jemma, not possible murders like Daisy theorized in her most recent text. Jemma had texted her after she had been greeted into the apartment. Her friend, Daisy, was prone to mistrust as well as over protection of the sweet and trusting, Jemma.  


“So, what are all of your names? I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons. I’m a biology teacher. I’m incredibly organized and hardworking and very helpful. I always pay my rent and taxes on time. I’m rather quiet and I really wouldn’t be bothersome. And I haven’t let you say your names yet.” Clicking her heels together again and blushing slightly, Jemma bit her lip in order to stop herself from continuing her nervous habit of rapid-fire talking, a habit she had been informed she was prone to.  


“I’m Mack, that over there is Fitz and this is-“  


“Hunter. It’s a pleasure to meet such a beautiful woman as yourself.”  


The man sitting in the middle of the large brown sofa reached out his hand. He was a rogue kind of handsome, with rough stubble, dark eyes, and a thick British accent. He had a charm to him, but a rough charm, the kind of charm that was heavy with sarcastic humor and that was often a front to ward of genuine feeling. A player’s charm.  


Before Jemma could extend her hand back, the man, Mack, hit Hunter in the ribs.  


“What the hell, mate!” Hunter withdrew his hand and began dramatically rubbing his rib while angrily shooting the tall man next to him a disgruntled look.  


“What did we just tell you about jar worthy talk?”  


“I was paying the beautiful woman a compliment,” Hunter said defensively, shooting a sly glance at Jemma.  


“Please don’t let Hunter ruin the apartment. I would tell you he isn’t normally like this but that would be a lie.” Mack smiled as he talked, ignoring Hunter’s indignant expression. Mack was tall and strong looking. Unlike Hunter, his charm appeared to stem from somewhere more genuine.  


“You do seem like you would make a good roommate,” Mack continued, “I just have to wonder why you’re willing to room with three guys. Not that we won’t consider you or anything, it’s just unusual.”  


“Well... you see that’s not really a happy story.” Jemma began to click her heels again. “I recently went through a pretty nasty break up. His name was Milton. He cheated on me. It was a mess.” Feeling herself start to speed talk again, she bit her lip. “Sorry. It sort of hurts to think about.”  


“Oh, it’s okay. Fitz knows. He got dumped recently too.” Hunter smacked the knee of the man sitting next to him on the far end of the couch.  


“Thanks for that,” Fitz said, scooting forward and farther from the other two on the couch. “Yeah, I got dumped... She dumped me. It was six months ago! I’m over it. Come on, guys. I don’t know why we’re still talking about it.”  


Jemma drew her attention towards Fitz. He was Scottish, according to his accent, with a strange kind of charm that she couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t like the other two who radiated outgoing charm. His charm was quiet, reserved, and somehow even more genuine and good. He was as handsome as the other two men, with rough stubble, short curls, and eyes so blue, Jemma got lost for a second as she looked at him. He seemed grumpy, made even more so by the mentioning of his apparently messy breakup. His grumpiness appeared to Jemma to be more like his shield rather than his actual state of being, much like Hunter’s wit and Mack’s frame.  


“So,” Mack continued, trying to move away from the obviously land mine filled conversation as Fitz buried his face in his hands, “do you have any pets? Any friends that would visit? Just anything that we might need to be aware of?”  


“I don’t have any pets. As for friends, they would probably visit sometimes. Though currently, they are more of the type of people to go out. They’re models. All their friends are models, so they have these big parties and things. That’s partly the reason I need an apartment. You see, I’ve been staying with one of them and it’s been kind of a nightmare. I’m not really a ‘get drunk and party’ kind of person and it’s kind of part of their job to socialize and go to these big events. So, I end up just sort of being miserable in my room with the loud noises and everything.”  


Mack and Fitz nodded their heads, but Hunter was gone at models. “Well then, I think that’s all we need to know,” Hunter said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “If you’ll excuse us, I got to talk to my boys.” Fitz groaned while Mack rolled his eyes.  


“That’s not a thing we say here,” Fitz said, shaking his head at Jemma as if trying to apologize for Hunter, much like a parent when a child misbehaves in front of a guest.  
Hunter put his hands on the shoulders of his friends from behind the couch. “My bros.”  


“Jar.”  


“Hunter jar.”  


Hunter made his way to the kitchen, dropping a dollar bill into a glass mason jar sitting on the little table behind the couch with a sticky note reading “Douchebag Jar”. Mack and Fitz exchanged knowing glances before standing up themselves and following Hunter into the kitchen.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“So, we’re letting her move in, right?”  


“Hold on. I’m not saying I’m set on one way or the other but we have to apply some sort of method to this decision. We can’t just make rash decisions.” Fitz said.  


“Her friends are models, Fitz. Models!”  


“It’s not the models, Hunter,” Mack clarified, “I mean, I’m not super set on it.”  


“How!” Hunter yelled. “Models!” He put his hands on his head in disbelief, staring back and forth at the other two.  


“Well, I like my space. She seems nice and everything but it does seem strange a woman living with three guys. It might, I don’t know, get weird.” Mack said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. At that point, Hunter and Mack turned to Fitz.  


“Well, Fitzy. You’re the tiebreaker.”  


Fitz backed up slightly. “Well, you both have reasonable points. There are both pros and cons. As we have stated. There are cons and pros to the situation that we are considering-”  


“Fitz!”  


“I don’t know! You know I hate being the tie breaker! One of you is always angry at me! I’m the only one that gets to be angry since you always force me to break the tie!”  


“Fine then, executive decision,” Hunter said as Fitz once again put his hand on his forehead, “she’s in.”  


“Yay! I’m in!”  


The three of them spun around to see Jemma standing by the dining room table, a smile lighting up her face.  


“You are not going to regret this!”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

As they sat at the dining room table, Rose Tyler professed her love to the 10th Doctor on the television screen for the 8th time that day and loud sniffles and cries came from the couch. Turning on Hunter, they were beginning to regret the decision. “What. Have. You. Done.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“No, mum. I’m alright. No, I’m not watching Doctor Who. Oh, that was just Fitz shutting the door. No. I don’t think so.” Jemma lowered the phone from her face, putting her hand over the talking end. “Hey, are you going to murder me because you’re a stranger I met on the internet?” Jemma asked as Fitz passed her and made his way from his room to the kitchen.  


“Yes,” Fitz said dryly.  


“He said no. Alright. Love you too. Bye.”  


Jemma hung up the phone and returned to her episode of Doctor Who, quoting along to the tragic lines of, “quite right” and crying softly.  


“You have to fix this, Hunter!” Fitz whispered harshly, slamming his hands on the counter.  


“Relax, mate! I’ve got a plan!”  


“What plan?” Mack closed the fridge and walked over to the other side of the counter.  


“I was thinking maybe we could go to that party I was telling you about. I’m sure if you just called her-”  


“No! For the last time, I’m not calling Ophelia just to get you into a party.”  


“It wouldn’t be for me! It’s to help cheer up Jemma!”  


“No, Hunter! I’m not doing it!”  


Fitz walked around the counter to the fridge, reaching in for a beer.  


“What’s the harm?” Hunter followed him around the counter and stood by Mack, crossing his arms in determination.  


“I don’t know. She could suck my soul through the phone, possess me, and brainwash me into thinking she’s not an evil person again. You know, the normal thing that happens when I call Ophelia.”  


“He’s got a point, Hunter. Do we really want a repeat of the meltdown of April 16th-”  


“No we don’t want a repeat of Fitz losing his soul to Ophelia, but one stupid, very helpful phone call can’t hurt!”  


“If you’re looking to cheer up Jemma, why don’t we just take her to The Playground?” Fitz said, draining down more of his beer.  


“That’s a great idea!” Mack said. He set his beer down on the counter and made his way to the couch.  


“Hey, Jemma,” he said, lightly touching her knee as if he was afraid of making her cry again, “Do you want to come out to the bar with us tonight?”  


“I’m not sure I’m ready.” She said quietly, wiping her eyes.  


“We’re pretty sure you’re ready. If it makes you more comfortable, you can invite one of your friends that happens to be a model.” Hunter added.  


“Oh, that’s a nice idea!” Jemma exclaimed, sitting up quickly and causing the men to all take a small jump backward. “That way you can meet them! Oh, you’ll love them! I’ll text Daisy and Bobbi right now!” And with that, Jemma jumped up off the couch and walked towards her room, texting as she went.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Once again the three men sat on the large, comfy couch trying their best not to look nervous, or in Hunter’s case excited, as they faced the women in front of them.  


They were waiting for Jemma to get dressed before they made their way to The Playground, their local bar. The two women sat analyzing the men in front of them, calculating whether or not they were worthy of having Jemma Simmons as their roommate. Suddenly a loud thud came from Jemma’s room.  


“Jemma? You alright?” Daisy called.  


“I’m okay,” Jemma called back softly. Something in her voice said she wasn’t.  


“I’m going to go check on her,” Daisy said to her other friend who nodded back. As soon as the door clicked open and shut, Bobbi returned to analyzing the men in front of her.  


“So, Jemma mentioned you were models. I have to say she didn’t tell us just how beautiful you are,” Hunter said, leaning forward.  
Mack leaned his elbow on the edge of the couch as if it distance himself as much from Hunter as possible, while Fitz closed his eyes disapprovingly and bowed his head, huffing slightly like a parent whose child has said something stupid.  


“Thank you,” Bobbi said, her voice flat.  


“It’s Bobbi, right. Is it hot in here to you, Bobbi? I’m just wondering. Because to me it feels hot in here to me.” Hunter began to take off his jacket, exposing his biceps proudly. Mack and Fitz were just grateful he had learned from a previous occasion and had not taken off his shirt.  


“Oh please don’t make me laugh at you,” Bobbi said, her voice steady and her face frozen into a grimace.  


Fitz and Mack both looked from Hunter to Bobbi, grinning. Finally, someone besides them was calling Hunter’s bull shit.  


“Listen,” Bobbi said after Hunter had regained his wits, “Jemma is perhaps one of the kindest people that have ever graced this planet. If any of you get her into any trouble or hurt her in any way, Daisy and I will take turns murdering you.”  


The three of them sat back further into the couch. They didn’t doubt for a second that Jemma’s friends had all the ability to uphold that promise.  


“Okay! It took some prodding, but I actually got her to dress up a bit!” Daisy said standing against the giant sliding door that separated the living room from the sleeping quarters. “Come on Jem! Come show them.”  


Slowly, Jemma walked out of her room, tiptoeing nervously. She had a little black dress on with shiny black heels, the same that Daisy had walked in with. He hair was curled and her eyes no longer rimmed red from tears as they had been in the days previously, but rather lined in black liner and framed in dark lashes.  


“Wow. You look great Jemma!” Mack said smiling kindly at her. Hunter nodded his agreement. Fitz sat in the corner of the couch with his mouth slightly open, his breath catching in his lungs when he saw her.  


“Do I look weird. I feel weird.” Jemma tugged at the hem of her dress and clicked her heels together, looking at the floor as she did so.  


“No,” Fitz blurted, smiling lightly, “No, you look nice.” She smiled brightly back.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Jemma collapsed onto the stool next to Fitz at the bar. “You alright, Jemma?”  


“I said he had a gorgeous head.” She said her face in her crossed arms on the bar. Fitz chuckled.  


“You what?”  


“I couldn’t think of anything to say. Daisy just pushed me into him and it was the first thing that came to mind.”  


“Well did you say anything to fix it?” Fitz said, grinning slightly.  


“No. I slapped him a little too hard on the chest,trying to be playful, cried that I was sorry when he stumbled back, and then ran away.”  


“Smooth, Simmons.”  


She looked up at the nickname. He had given her a nickname. Granted it was her last name, but still, it was sweet.  


“No. It wasn’t, was it?” He smiled at her slightly and returned to his drink. This was the most she had seen him smile since she had moved in.  


She looked around the bar for the rest of their group. Mack was talking to Daisy while Hunter sat at a booth with Bobbi, attempting to make her laugh. And almost succeeding.  


“Well, I guess it’s just us losers at the bar. Losers who both got dumped.”  


“It was forever ago. Really, I’m over it.” He tilted back the beer again.  


“Why did she dump you?”  


“I don’t know.”  


“That’s the worst.” Jemma lightly touched his shoulder, causing him to glance at her quickly before returning to his beer.  


“Yeah. It is.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The bar was a miss. Every guy in the place was either a complete asshole or incredibly boring. Seeing as they were all just talking to each other anyway, they decided to head back to the loft. Afraid that their attempt in cheering Jemma up had failed, the boys decided that they would let her show them an episode of Doctor Who, as long as it wasn’t the one she had been watching on repeat for the last week. Daisy had a shoot that morning so she had to go and Bobbi was too tired to even try to act like watching the show was appealing to her, so it was just Jemma and her roommates.  


The three men and Jemma sat on the large, comfy, brown couch. When the Doctor Who theme song began to play, much to her surprise and delight the three men, in their final attempt to completely cheer her up, began singing the theme in terrible falsetto and waving their arms in the air.  


“Thank you. For tonight.” She said, smiling from ear to ear when the the title sequence was over and the show started up.  


“No problem.”  


“It was nothing.”  


She glanced at Fitz. He smiled at her slightly.  


“We’re glad to have you, Jemma Simmons.”


	2. The Televison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post on Monday, but life is a lot so I'm posting today! I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“Can I borrow one of your shirts, Fitz?”  


It had been weeks since Jemma had gone back to her old apartment and gathered her things from her old room. She couldn’t quite explain why, but nothing seemed more dreadful than facing her ex and packing up her things completely. She loved her new place, her new room, and especially her new roommates. After catching her sleazy ex-boyfriend with another woman, what had been one of the worst and most embarrassing moments in her life, she didn’t know her life could take an up-turn so quickly. The boys could be disruptive to her normal routine at times, with loud arguments over random things like who drank the last beer and yelling at the television during football matches, but otherwise, Jemma thought they were wonderful.  


“What do you need one of my shirts for, Simmons?” Fitz paused in the middle of what he was doing to look at her, earning him a basketball to the elbow. He cursed loudly as Mack apologized and Hunter fell from his perch on the back of the couch, laughing hysterically. Fitz picked up the ball and launched it at Hunter, whose had poked up his head to continue laughing only to duck as the ball nearly hit him in the nose.  


“Well, I’m running rather low on clothes since they’re all at my old place.”  


“Why don’t you just go get them?” Fitz said, catching the ball that had been thrown in his direction.  


“I can’t. I haven’t talked to Milton since he cheated on me! I’m just not quite ready to face him.”  


“Jemma, you can’t give him power like that,” Mack added absently as he caught the ball.  


“I know. I just… I don’t know.” Jemma intercepted the ball that was directed towards Fitz, spinning it in her hands. “He just has this weird power over me. It’s like all the strength and independence I have just goes out the window.” She chucked the ball in Hunter’s general direction, but missed hitting the television instead. The screen shattered with a loud and glittering crunch. Jemma’s hands flew up to cover her face and the three men stood in horror at the giant hole in the screen.  


“Sorry,” Jemma groaned.  


Hunter jumped up from the couch and kneeled in front of the T.V., avoiding the shards peppering the floor and gaping at the screen in overdramatized horror. Mack slowly made his way to the television, picked up the basketball, sat down on the couch, and wrapped his arms around the ball in his lap for comfort, putting his chin on the ball and staring at the T.V. with his mouth tightly shut. Meanwhile, Fitz looked to Jemma and then back at the T.V. as if battling with whether or not to be upset are her.  


“Fitz, use your PhD and fix it,” Hunter exclaimed, standing up and turning to Fitz pleadingly.  


“You have a PhD?” Jemma asked softly, the information momentarily distracting her from the panic of breaking the prized television. She looked at Fitz, studying him. The more she got to know him, the more interesting he became, what with his mysterious loathing of his first name, his unappreciated brilliance, and now with his untalked of PhD.  


“Yes,” he stated flatly, “but I don’t think my Engineering degree is going to save the television.  


Engineering. He had a PhD in Engineering. What was his life! It wasn’t something unheard of to be young and have a PhD. Jemma herself had two PhDs in Biochemistry, but instead chose to go into education. She got her degree to help people and found the people that she wanted to help were children. What better way to be able to pass knowledge and help people than to teach!  


Hunter groaned loudly, snapping Jemma out of her daze. He stared at the television with heartbroken eyes. “There’s a match tomorrow.”  


Fitz swore loudly. “I forgot about that.” Now Fitz looked heartbroken as well. Jemma felt terrible about breaking the T.V. and about the looks on their faces and about a lot of things.  


Mack suddenly popped his head up from his basketball and turned to look at Jemma. “Do you have a T.V. at your old place?” He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up.  


“Um… yes. But like I said, I haven’t spoken to Milton in weeks and…” she trailed off at the looks on their faces. She hated feeling powerless and nervous and she was especially upset that is was cheating jerkwad Milton that was making her feel it.  


“ Jemma,” Fitz sighed, his tone softening, “I get it. But you can’t let him do this to you. You need your stuff back. You need your clothes, your books, your-”  


“Television.”  


“Hunter!”  


“What!”  


Jemma looked at Fitz. His eyes turned kind when he turned to looked at her. Suddenly courage built up in Jemma’s chest.  
“You’re right! I’m not going to let him win! I’m getting my stuff back! I’m going to call him!” She charged towards the table where her phone sat. She clicked his number, put her phone to her ear, and charged out the door, picking up her purse from the hook on the wall as she went.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“Hey, Jembug.”  


“Milton.”  


Jemma sat at the table in the coffee shop she asked Milton to meet her in, nervously clicking her heels together under the table. He sat down across from her, a condescending smile on his face. He was treating her like a child already.  


“How have you been?” He asked, touching one of her hands that was on the table. She pulled it back.  


“I’ve been fine.” She said, avoiding his eyes. Why did he make her feel so stupid! “Milton, I need my stuff back. My T.V., the rest of my clothes, my books,” she continued after a deep breath.  


“Yeah of course, I just can’t today.”  


“Well when could I come and collect everything?”  


“It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, grazing her hand again.  


“Milton, I really need my things,” she said flatly, moving her hand further away to her lap.  


“I need something as well. Could you give me a ride to the airport?”  


“Will I be able to pick up my things if I do?”  


“Of course! We just have to pick up my girlfriend and drop her off then we can get your stuff tomorrow!” And with that, he stood up from the table and walked out the door and to her car, not even waiting for her.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


She felt like crying. It had been an hour of driving to the airport, listening to her ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on her with singing at the top of their lungs, badly. Then it had been an hour of driving him back to his apartment, which he refused to let her go into because he was having people over soon. She wanted to punch him in the face or push him out of the moving car. She wanted to cry.  


Deciding that pushing him out of car or punching him wasn’t going to help anything, she dropped him off and barreled off towards home. She called Daisy on her way, crying into the phone about how awful her day had been. Daisy insisted that Jemma pick her up so she could go and beat up Milton for her.  


By the time Jemma picked Daisy up from outside her building, she was a complete mess.  


“Oh, honey,” Daisy soothed, side hugging her friend from the passenger seat.  


“Milton’s the worst,” Jemma cried as Daisy stroked her hair.  


“I know, honey. He really is. Why did you need to talk to him”  


“I broke the television, the really expensive one that the boys had saved up for, and I was running out of clothes and then the boys said I should go get my stuff back-”  


“The boys told you to talk to him?”  


“Not exactly. They more encouraged me to stand up to Milton.”  


“You should! Milton’s a dick! You know what, let’s drive back to the loft and come up with a game plan to get your stuff back and kick his sorry ass, okay?”  


“Okay.”  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“Jemma! What the hell happened!”  


Fitz launched himself up from the couch when he caught sight of Jemma’s mascara-stained face. Daisy trailed a bit behind Jemma, shutting the door after they entered. Jemma dropped down onto the couch and Fitz moved to sit next to but slightly away from her to give her her space. Mack and Hunter looked up from their poker game at the dining room table and, spotting Jemma, stood up and walked over to sit by her as well. Daisy sat kitty-corner to them on the large comfy chair, smiling at the way Jemma’s roommates were rallying by her. She checked some trust boxes off in her head as she slightly smiled at them all.  


“What happened?” Fitz repeated, looking at Jemma with concerned eyes.  


“He needed a ride to the airport.”  


“What!”  


“For his new girlfriend,” Jemma said, brushing her hair off her face and staring at the ceiling.  


“You’re kidding!”  


“What an ass-hat!”  


“Oh my God, Jem!”  


They all looked at her, disgusted by what she was telling them. It made her feel slightly better to know that they were so angry and upset for her, that they cared so much.  


“You need to fight him, Jemma,” Fitz encouraged, his eyes alight with concern, “You’re afraid to let him go. You know that once you get your stuff it’s really over, and that’s scary! Which sucks. It sucks that the most manipulative and harmful people can make us feel like we need them. It’s the worst.”  


Daisy looked at Fitz, smiling slightly despite the situation, stamping her approval for him in her mind as she looked between him and Jemma.  


Jemma looked into Fitz’s eyes, his sincerity and his quiet charm seeping through the blueness. “I want to move on,” she said softly.  


“Then you gotta fight! You have to get mad!” He said, standing up.  


Jemma stood up and faced him. “I am mad!”  


“Yeah, Jemma!” Hunter pumped his fist in the air.  


“I’m going to get my stuff back!” Jemma charged towards the door. “I’m going!” She grabbed her purse off the hook. “I would like you all to come with me!” She turned towards them. “Please because I can’t carry everything on my own and it would be very helpful if you all came to support me and everything.”  


They all stood up, with a few mumbles here and there, and walked out the door with Jemma leading the pack.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


Jemma tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she stared at her old apartment as the guys, crammed into the back of Jemma’s environmentally friendly car, wiggled uncomfortably, Hunter squirming in the middle and elbowing Mack in the ribs, earning himself a smack on the head.  


“Jemma? Are you going to get out of the car?” Daisy said softly from the passenger seat.  


“Yep,” Jemma said. Taking a large breath she pushed open the car door and made her way up the path towards the house.  


“We’re out here if you need us!” Daisy called through the open car window.  


Jemma rang the doorbell repeatedly until the door swung open. Milton appeared in the doorway.  


“That’s the guy?” Fitz asked in the car, “He has a giant cabbage head.”  


“He looks like a dumbass,” Mack said in his deep voice.  


“Did anyone else assume he’d have a handlebar mustache? No. Just me.”  


“Are you an idiot, Hunter?” Mack said, staring at his friend and contemplating on whether to smack his head again or not before turning back towards the house.  


“Come on, Simmons. You got this.” Fitz murmured.  


“Hey Jembug.” Milton went to hug Jemma and she almost hugged him back before noticing the potted plant that was wilting by the door. She pushed him off and gently touched one of the leaves of the plant.  


“You didn’t water the plants.”  


“Yeah. Not my thing.”  


“I told you to water the plants!”  


Jemma pushed past him and into the house. She put on as many articles of clothing as she could, piling on coats, shirts, and hats. She made her way to the living room and unplugged the flat screen television, pulling it off the stand and made her way outside.  


“Careful with the T.V.!” Hunter shouted, his hands flying to sit on his head in fear, smacking Mack and Fitz as they went.  


“Oh my God,” Daisy whispered.  


“We should help,” Fitz exclaimed, sticking his head out the open window as Mack smacked Hunter again.  


Daisy shouted for everyone to get out of the car as she whipped open the passenger door and swiftly got out. The three men scrambled out quickly but still managing to look like they were exiting a clown car. Milton was yelling at Jemma to calm down and put the T.V. back.  


“That’s my cardigan,” Jemma said suddenly, noticing what Milton was wearing. He had on one of her favorite cardigans. It was blue and had her name embroidered on the pocket.  


“No, it’s mine!”  


“It has my name on the pocket, Milton! And it’s too small for you! You’ll stretch it out!” Jemma was starting to sway from the weight of the television. Suddenly it was out of her hands, Hunter carrying it back to the car as Daisy went inside for the rest of Jemma’s things. Unburdened by the T.V., Jemma launched herself at Milton, trying to pry off the cardigan.  


“Jemma!Jemma!Jemma!” Fitz said rapidly, running up behind her and pulling her off Milton with surprising strength before placing her gently back on the ground.  


“Who the hell are these guys!” Milton said, trying to sound collected and failing miserably.  


“They’re my roommates!” Jemma untangled herself from Fitz’s grasp and glared at Milton, bringing herself to her full height.  


“Jembug, let’s talk about this!”  


“There’s nothing to talk about. Give me my cardigan.”  


“No. You left it. And I got you that hat, so I’m taking that as well.” He pointed to one of her favorite wool hats and went to grab it. Fitz was quicker, picking it up and placing it on his own head. Seeing another hat, Hunter did the same, and Mack after him with a rather large pink pool hat. Jemma’s heart swelled with gratefulness and love for her roommates. For her friends. Her friends who looked ridiculous and didn’t even seem to care since they were helping her.  


“You want the hat, mate. Come and get it,” Fitz said, drawing himself up to his full height and rolling up his sleeves to reveal his rather muscular and toned arms.He was glaring at Milton with pure disdain written in his features.  


“You actually live with these people, Jemma!” Milton looked at the three guys like they were the scum of the Earth, making anger bubble in Jemma’s throat.  


“You know what, cabbage head. I don’t like you. How dare you treat-”  


“I got it, Fitz.” Jemma lightly nudged Fitz back, who had started walking towards Milton as if to punch him. She looked at Milton, all sense of what she once felt for him evaporated.  


“You know what Milton, I like where I live and who I live with. These guys are great. They’re funny and sweet and twice the men you will ever be. It’s over! I don’t need you. I realize now I never did! I tried to figure you out and understand you and now I see you quite clearly. You cheated on me, you broke my heart, and I’m happy you did so! You saved me from staying with you and letting you hurt me all over again. And yes, I’m terrified of starting over, of change. And yes, I’m living with three guys I met on the internet, and stranger danger and everything, but they are great guys! And change is good. Now I’d like my cardigan back.”  


Milton’s eyes scanned across the group as Daisy pushed him on her way to drop more stuff off at the car. Fitz glared at him, Hunter narrowed his eyes, and Mack stood threateningly tall at the back. Slowly Milton peeled off the cardigan and threw it to Jemma.  


“I thought we were going to be professional about this, Jemma.”  


“Yeah, well I thought it was common knowledge not to cheat on someone, so I guess we were both wrong. Goodbye Milton.” She walked back to the car, high-fiving Fitz without even needing to look, and feeling like she was finally home.


	3. The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I didn't forget about this fic, life just got stressful and things got put on the back-burner for a bit. But I am back and hoping to get the next chapter out ASAP! Thanks for sticking with it! Enjoy!

Jemma had always thought weddings to be joyous occasions, with music and dancing and happy guests. However, according to her roommates, the particular wedding they were set to attend was a recipe for disaster. The groom was a mentor of Fitz’s, a Holden Radcliffe. The bride was the twin of Fitz’s ex. Therefore it was a required event with no escape as well as meaning a required run in with Fitz’s said ex. It was a landmine stocked situation.  


It was early in the morning, a full three hours before they were required to leave, when Jemma sent the boys to shower and get dressed, having herself already showered and beginning to apply makeup. An hour after that, Jemma stood trying on dresses that best matched Fitz’s tie, the appropriate amount of matching for a pretend couple. “It says we’re together without overly screaming it,” she had said brightly, far too early in the morning, as she presented and then forced him into the navy blue tie. “Plus the color brings out your eyes and I happen to think I look good in navy.” It was decided by Mack and Hunter (mostly Hunter) that to avoid a potentially dangerous encounter with Fitz’s ex-girlfriend, Ophelia, Jemma would go as his date to the wedding and, unbeknownst to Fitz, keep an eye on him, making sure he didn’t do anything reckless. Thus the tie.  


“Honestly Fitz, it’ll be fun! Just relax and enjoy yourself!” Jemma called from her closet turned dressing room as Fitz and Mack sat on her bed waiting, having had “far too much time to get ready!” as Fitz had put it when he had come into her room after getting dressed to await her inspection. Mack had come in moments after to give his opinion on Jemma’s dress, like she had asked, and began playing games on his phone while Fitz tapped his foot anxiously.  


“You don’t know Ophelia or what she’s capable of,” Fitz stated ominously, fidgeting with his tie and rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb.  


“Normally I would agree that Fitz should calm down, but nobody out crazies Ophelia,” Mack said, looking up from his game, nodding, and looking as though he was staring into a war-torn past.  


Jemma scoffed through the door and, unbeknownst to the two men, rolled her eyes.  


“I doubt she’s the soul-sucking monster that you all say she is.”  


“Are we talking about Ophelia? I heard soul-sucking monster and just assumed,” Hunter said, appearing in the doorframe. “Personally I still believe she’s more of the heartless robot type.”  


Hunter walked into the room, his hands lazily in his pockets and the first three buttons of his shirt undone.  


“Hunter, button your shirt. We’re going to a wedding, not a beach holiday.” Mack said disapprovingly, rolling his eyes.  


“A beach holiday! Firstly, that insult makes no sense when I’m wearing dress shoes and slacks! Secondly, I believe my attire is completely fitting for the occasion we are forced to go to. You, on the other hand, look like you’re going to a half rate play that your mum dressed you for and Fitz looks like a bloody Mumford and Son.”  


“How did I get roped into this!” Fitz stammered angrily. He fixed his shirt cuffs nervously and brushed his hands through his hair. “And I do not look like a bloody Mumford and Son! Jemma picked this out. She even got me the tie,” he mumbled slightly, fixing the navy fabric around his neck, “She said it looked nice.”  


“You do look nice, Fitz,” Jemma said, smiling.  


The three of them turned quickly to face Jemma. She stood in the open door frame of her closet, wearing a deep navy dress that reached right above the knee and swished as she swayed. It had high neckline, long sleeves, and an open back. Her hair was down in long, loose waves and her eyes were dusted with a hint of shadow and framed in dark lashes. The boys stared, Mack grinning with his eyes soft, Hunter with raised eyebrows. Fitz was frozen, a slight upturn to the corner of his lips and his eyes drinking her in.  


“What do you think?” Jemma asked, spinning in the dress, the delicate fabric of the skirt falling lightly around her.  


“You look great, Jemma,” Mack stated kindly.  


“That color is great on you,” Hunter complemented.  


Fitz was silent.

-0-0-0-0-0-

When they arrived at the venue, they all piled out of the car. Fitz opened Jemma’s door and took her arm. He really is quite the romantic pretend boyfriend, Jemma thought as they trailed behind Mack and Hunter.  


“You know, I’ve always wanted an outdoor wedding,” Jemma blurted as they walked, “Not that this venue isn’t lovely! I always just thought a countryside wedding would be lovely. Not like in America though, a countryside wedding at home. Maybe Scotland. I always thought Scotland was lovely. My parents once took me on a trip to Perthshire. It was so peaceful and lovely... ” Jemma trailed off, realizing she was rambling and had used the word lovely far too many times. What made her talk about Scotland she didn’t know, all she could think of was how red her face must be getting and how silly it was to mention getting married in Scotland next to her rather handsome Scottish fake boyfriend.  


After a second or two Jemma dared a look back at him. It didn’t seem as though he had been listening. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, Jemma looked ahead as they continued to look for their seats. Up ahead she could hear Hunter arguing loudly with Mack, over what Jemma didn’t know. She thought she heard the words “open bar” float back. She looked over at Fitz again. He was rigid as they walked, radiating nervous energy, but the smile he gave her when she delicately touched his shoulder was bright, even reaching his eyes, and he had relaxed somewhat by the time they reached their seats. He had nearly forgotten why he was nervous about the wedding, to begin with. And then, a few minutes after they had sat down, a woman’s silky voice spoke from the aisle.  


“Leopold?”  


Fitz jumped, whether at the name or the voice Jemma wasn’t completely sure. The woman was tall and lean with shining eyes rimmed with dark liner and lashes. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in dark curls contrasting against her skin and she was dressed in a long crimson dress that cinched at the waist, matching the color of her lips. Her beauty was apparent but Jemma felt a deep sense of foreboding when looking at her, something behind the eyes.  


“Ophelia,” Fitz greeted sharply, “How are you?” His face was stiff but his arm gently draped around Jemma’s shoulder as he spoke. Jemma felt shivers run down her arm as Fitz’s fingers traced across her shoulder.  


“I’m well. And who is this?” Ophelia gestured towards Jemma. However, she wasn’t looking at Jemma but rather at Jemma’s shoulder, where Fitz was drawing spirals with his finger. Her eyes were like razors as they scanned from Fitz’s hand, up his arm, and onto his face.  


“This is Jemma Simmons. My girlfriend.”  


The term girlfriend caused Jemma to pause for a second. Then she snapped back into reality. Right, they were playing pretend. A sudden jolt of fear crossed Jemma’s mind. She never was good at improvisation.  


“Nice to meet you,” Jemma said as confidently as she could. She extended her hand. Ophelia looked away from Fitz and at Jemma’s gesture. She smiled sharply and shook Jemma’s hand twice before letting go.  


“You as well.”  


Ophelia took one last glance at Fitz and then departed towards her seat, leaving Jemma with the impression that she was more like a Lady Macbeth than an Ophelia.

-0-0-0-0-0-

During the ceremony, Jemma noted how much Ophelia looked like her twin, the only difference being that Agnes exuded kindness while there was something just a hint darker to Ophelia that Jemma couldn’t quite place. It was also during the ceremony where Jemma realized the thing that truly bothered her about Ophelia. It was the question of why she broke up with Fitz and not the other way around when it was so apparent that Ophelia was wrong for him.  


After the ceremony, Fitz and Jemma went to congratulate the bride and groom, making their way through the crowded ballroom to say hello.  


“Fitz, my boy! It’s so good to see you!”  


A man with large eyes, grey hair and stubble, and a thick Scottish accent gestured at Fitz. Recognizing him from the ceremony, Jemma registered him as the groom, Holden Radcliffe. He opened his arms wide, releasing his new wife’s hand and embraced Fitz.  


“It’s good to see you too,” Fitz laughed as he patted his mentor’s shoulder. Radcliffe released Fitz and smiled at his wife.  


“Fitz,” Agnes said kindly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Fitz kissed her cheek and congratulated her. He seemed completely used to her likeness to her sister, seeing their differences and harboring no ill feelings towards the kinder woman.  


“Now who is this?” Holden said suddenly, turning to Jemma. Fitz grabbed Jemma’s hand and pulled her closer, smiling brightly, the blue in his eyes twinkling.  


“This is Jemma Simmons, my girlfriend. Jemma, this is Doctor Holden Radcliffe and his wife Agnes.”  


“Ah, wife! It sounds so new and nice doesn’t it! So nice to meet you Jemma,” Agnes said, reaching out her hand to shake Jemma’s.  


“Nice to meet you as well, Agnes.”  


“Well, it was so nice to see you again. Got to go greet more guests,” Radcliffe said, putting his arm around his bride and beaming. Right as Fitz grabbed Jemma’s hand again, making to turn away, Radcliffe added suddenly, “Oh, and Fitz I really hope you consider that offer I sent you. I really think that it would be a great job opportunity for you. You can’t tell me you don’t have drafts piled up somewhere that deserve a proper building and in a proper lab at that! My colleague looked up your paper and requested to see some of your previous works. He was taken the moment he saw them! Please think about it, my boy.”  


Fitz nodded stiffly, “I’ll think about it.”  


Radcliffe beamed and walked away, his arm still around his wife.  


“What was that about?” Jemma asked, looking at Fitz quizzically.  


“It’s nothing. Want a drink?”

-0-0-0-0-0-

As Fitz went to fetch drinks, Jemma walked around the ballroom to find Mack and Hunter. She found Mack sitting at a table having an argument with a little girl about car engines.  


“Hey, Mack,” Jemma interrupted, “What are you doing?”  


Mack sighed and turned to face her. “I’m having a discussion with this little Sparkplug here.” Mack gestured at the girl. She smiled brightly.  


“What he means is he’s getting proved wrong by an eight-year-old.” The girl beamed brightly.  


“Yeah, yeah, yeah. This kid just outsmarted me. Now, go find your parents, kid,” Mack said kindly, smiling to himself as the girl skipped away towards her parents. Jemma smiled too.  


“Where’s our eight-year-old?” Jemma asked, scanning the crowd for Hunter.  


“Trying to ‘woo some women’ as he put it,” Mack said, placing air quotes around the words.  


“Charming,” Jemma said smirking as she caught Hunter walking towards them, dragging his feet.  


“How’d it go?” Mack chuckled.  


“You’d think I was wearing some sort of woman repellent or something,” Hunter snapped, slumping into a chair next to Mack. Mack smirked and patted Hunter on the back. Jemma sat on the other side of Hunter and rested her hand kindly on his shoulder.  


“Maybe it’s just an off day. Perhaps we're all just a little on edge and that’s what’s throwing you off. I mean Fitz seemed a little off today as well.”  


“Speaking of,” interrupted Mack, “Where is Fitz?”  


“He went to go get drinks a little bit ago,” Jemma replied, looking away from Hunter to search the room, “Someone must have sidetracked him. I’m sure he’s on his way.”  
Hunter and Mack sat bolt upright and looked at each other before frantically scanning the room as well.  


“Oh shit,” Hunter cursed. Mack followed Hunter’s line of sight, landing upon Fitz. He was sitting at a table with his arm on the back of the chair next to him, laughing slightly, his hand that rested on the table covered by the hand of the woman next to him. Ophelia.  


“You left him unsupervised Jemma!” Hunter cried, standing up, his hands flying to his head. Mack stood up as well and watched Fitz, the look of the worn torn past flooding to his features.  


“He went to go get drinks! I didn’t think I needed to follow him like he was a child! Maybe this is good! Maybe they will make up!” Jemma tried to make her voice light but the brightness slipped slightly with each word. She stood up and went on her tiptoes to look for him. She spotted him and her stomach dropped. He was smiling. Why did that make her so utterly unhappy? She landed hard back flat down on her feet.  


“Oh, they always make up. That’s not the issue,” Hunter said darkly, snapping Jemma back to the situation at hand, “The issue is when she realizes she’s won and tosses him aside again for the fun of it.”  


Mack continued to look at Fitz, his expression becoming more and more dejected.  


“What do you mean ‘when she’s won?” Jemma asked.  


“She toys with him,” Hunter cringed, “She wants to prove she can manipulate him and that she can have him whenever she wants.”  


“It’s a game to her. He’s her backup plan. It’s like she wants to prove she can get his love like she’s testing it out,” Mack added sadly, looking away from Fitz.  


“You have to get him, Jemma!” Hunter cried, grabbing Jemma by the arms.  


“What do I say?”  


“I don’t know, you’re his pretend girlfriend. Think of something!”  


“But I’m not very good at improvisation!” Jemma called as they pushed her in the direction towards Fitz.  


“Oh no…”  


She walked briskly towards the table where Fitz sat, desperately trying to think of something to say. However, when she found herself in front of Fitz and Ophelia, all sense of reason left her and all she could think of was to dramatically shout, “Liar!” and point at the two of them.  


And that is what she did.  


Ophelia sprung up from her chair and shook her head violently. “No, it’s not what you think!”  


“Jemma! What are you doing!” Fitz stood up quickly too, looking halfway between perplexed and angry.  


“I trusted you,” Jemma continued to ad-lib, her reasonless confidence beginning to slip. Wildly, Jemma grabbed the water glass that must have been Ophelia’s and threw its contents at Fitz, soaking his face and navy tie. Jemma inhaled sharply and slowly put the glass down on the table. Uh oh.  


Fitz slowly wiped his hand down his face and through his hair. He began to ring out his tie when Ophelia spoke. “Oh my God. Really this is a huge misunderstanding,” she apologized, “Really, I have a boyfriend.”  


“You what?” Fitz whispered, freezing, his hands still around his tie.  


Jemma’s eyes widened with fear at the look on Fitz’s face, her heart sinking for him.  


“I’ve been seeing someone. His name is Anton. I was going to bring him but I didn’t want to upset you. You know what, I should really get going. I need to congratulate my sister and get on my way. It was nice to see you, Leopold.”  


She walked off, her dark hair swaying as she quickened her pace towards Agnes at the other end of the ballroom. Fitz stood stock still and soaking wet.  


“Fitz, I-” Jemma was cut off my Fitz’s hand flying up in a stopping motion. He looked up at the ceiling, running his hand through his curls and then rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb. He sighed deeply, grabbed his glass off the table and downed the drink in one shot. He walked away and Jemma watched as he took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and downed each in one gulp. Jemma seethed with sadness and anger. Heartless robot.

-0-0-0-0-0-

“We gave you one job,” Hunter muttered.  


“Leave it, Hunter,” Mack sighed.  


Jemma sat with her head on the table, her heart hurting. She couldn’t believe someone could be so cruel to someone so kind. She couldn’t believe she’d thrown water on him. On his new tie. 

She lifted her head and stared at the ceiling. They couldn’t find Fitz. The party was beginning to wind down now and there was still no sign of him.  


“Umm, excuse me?” The little girl Mack had been debating with tapped Mack’s arm.  


“Hey, Sparkplug. Do you need something?” Mack asked, smiling.  


“Do you need to know where your mummy and daddy are?” Hunter asked the girl.  


“I know where they are, I’m not six,” the girl shot back. Hunter was taken aback and Mack laughed. Even Jemma cracked a smile.  


“No,” continued the girl, “I think your friend is in the photo booth. He won’t let anyone take any pictures. He keeps saying that they need to get out of his house. He doesn’t seem super with it so I was wondering if you could help get him out of there?”  


The three looked at each other. “I got it,” Jemma whispered and made her way to the photo booth.  


When she made it to the booth she gently tapped on the edge of the door frame that was closed off by a red velvet curtain.  


“Hello?” replied a thick Scottish accent.  


“Fitz, it’s Jemma. May I come in?”  


There was a pause and then, slowly, Fitz drew back the red curtain and gestured for her to come in. She sat down on the bench, crammed closely next to him.  


“Jemma,” he slurred, “Welcome to my home. I live here now. Sorry, it’s a bit of a work in progress but with a little work I’m sure it will be great!” His eyes drooped slightly as he talked, their shoulders rubbing together as he gestured around the cramped space. “There’s already a mirror in here so I don’t need to get one. It’s also kind of a telly so that’s cool.”  


“That’s very cool, Fitz,” Jemma said kindly.  


“I’m working on the guest room right now. It’ll be really nice. You can stay there if you like. I’ll put up pictures of home. You mentioned home earlier today, made me think of Scotland and my mum and grass and the countryside, and the color navy. Do you know my favorite color is navy.” His eyes drifted to the sleeves of her dress and down her arm before snapping to the curtains of the booth.  


“I didn’t know that,” Jemma said.  


“It is. I’m going to make the curtain’s navy because I know you like that color too.”  


“Fitz that would be-”  


“Lovely,” he finished, staring deeply into her eyes. He blushed and turned away, playing with the curtain on his side. “I don’t like these curtains. They’re too red. They should be navy. It’s a calming color…” he muttered drunkenly.  


“Fitz, will you look at me?”  


He turned his head sadly towards her. She looked at him, placing her hand over his on his knee, “She doesn’t deserve you. And you didn’t deserve that. Flirting with you when she had a boyfriend was cruel and you are too good to deserve that.”  


He looked sadly down at his hands and then back up to her face.  


“Yeah,” he said softly.  


“We should get going. Hunter’s about to get in a fight with an eight-year-old and Mack is close to falling asleep.  


“Yeah, and I’m drunk so maybe it’s best if we do.”  


A smile spread across Fitz’s face and he began to laugh hysterically. Jemma began to giggle as well.  


“You threw water in my face,” he said clutching his chest.  


“Yes, I did,” Jemma responded.  


“You’re so bad at improvisation!” He continued to laugh.  


Jemma laughed at him as he clutched his hands to his chest, the laughter along with the color of his tie bringing out the blue of his eyes.  


“I think we should go, Fitz.”  


He stopped laughing and looked up at her. “Yeah. We should.”  


Jemma pulled back the curtain and got out of the photo booth. Fitz slid to her side of the booth and she offered her hand to pull him up. He took her hand and Jemma tugged him up from the seat. He smiled at her and patted her arm. “Thanks for being my pretend girlfriend today.”  


“It was nothing,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.  


“I’m glad you’re around, Simmons.”  


“I’m glad too, Fitz.”


	4. The Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life got crazy again, but here it is! The next chapter. I missed writing and I'm glad to be back! Hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a ton of fun writing it!

Daisy was drunk. It had been obvious from the typo-riddled text message and confirmed with a very slurred phone conversation that consisted of Daisy yelling about her boyfriend, something Bobbi was about to do, loud music and ending with shouts and a slurred, “Love you Jemma! Please pick up! Bye,” even though it had been an actual conversation and not a voice message. Bobbi, who was with Daisy, was of no help whatsoever being only slightly less drunk and being half the reason Daisy had made the said slurred call. That was why Jemma Simmons walked into a club at eleven o’clock at night wearing her pajamas and the first jacket she had found on the couch that she was pretty sure belonged to Fitz to save her friends from their bad girl shenanigans.  


“You piece of shit! You’re a lying bastard!”  


Daisy was yelling over the blaring music at a man Jemma recognized to be Grant Ward, Daisy’s current handsome and dickish boyfriend. Bobbi was only kind of trying to pry Daisy away as she swung her arms wildly, hitting the well-built man in the chest with dull thuds. Jemma wound her way through the crowd, avoiding getting stepped on and bumped into as much as possible by pointing her hands out in a diving motion and swerving against the waves of dancers.  


“Pardon me. So sorry. If I could just. Beep beep, so sorry. Traffic jam. I’ve got to get to my friends, so sorry, beep! Daisy! Bobbi!” Jemma pushed past her last person and grabbed onto Bobbi’s arm.  


“Jemma! Oh my god! Thank goodness! How did you know we were here!” Bobbi wrapped her arms around Jemma haphazardly and giggled slightly. Jemma pried off Bobbi and turned to grab Daisy, who now had free rein to hit Grant Ward. He was becoming angrier and angrier with each hit, his strong jaw clenching.  


“Daisy! I got your text! I’m here to pick up you and Bobbi!” Jemma shouted the words over the blaring music.  


“Jemma! Thank God! He was making out with some other girl! Can you believe that! He’s such a lying asshole!” Daisy pointed at her--what Jemma now assumed--ex-boyfriend with a look of pure drunken disgust.  


Jemma gasped. “You get away from here!” Jemma said slowly to Ward, making a shooing motion at the man.  


“Oh my God,” Ward yelled at Jemma, “Not another one of Daisy’s crazy friends. The other one already punched me! You’re lucky I don’t call the cops!”  


“Hey! Bobbi had every right you cheating scum! And don’t talk to my best friend like that!” Daisy leaned forward and ripped the deep-V collar that Ward was wearing all the way to where it was tucked into his pants. Daisy laughed loudly as Jemma jumped forward, grabbing Daisy from behind by the shoulders, pulling her back.  


“That was my favorite deep-V! You ripped my deep-V!”  


“Well, now it’s just a deeper V!” Jemma yelled back apologetically, grabbing a laughing Bobbi by the arm as she continued to pull Daisy towards the door.  


When they were finally out of the club and in Jemma’s car, Bobbi laid back in the back seat as Daisy haphazardly climbed in through the passenger side door. Jemma pulled Bobbi into a sitting position, told her to buckle her seat belt, threw her a water bottle that she had put in the door, and then slammed the driver side door closed, sighing heavily.  


“Hey thanks for picking us up Jem,” Daisy slurred as she sloppily buckled her seatbelt, “You know I really thought Grant was different. Didn’t you think Grant seemed different?” Daisy looked at her with heavy eyes and a sad expression. Bobbi hiccuped in the back as she struggled to get the bottle of water open.  


“Yeah,” Jemma said slowly, looking away from her friend and grabbing the water from Bobbi and unscrewing the lid, “he did seem like a nice not at all scary bounty hunter who wore really deep V-necks.”  


“Well they’re deeper now,” Bobbi giggled, taking the water from Jemma, sloshing some on her shirt as she sat back.  


“Ok, so where am I driving you?” Jemma asked turning to look at Bobbi then at Daisy.  


“Well you see, Grant has been staying with us because-”  


“Because Daisy’s an idiot,” Bobbi mumbled, attempting to wipe her shirt dry.  


“You’ve known him for three weeks,” Jemma groaned, facing Daisy.  


“Can we just crash with you until he’s gone? It’ll only be for a couple of days!” Daisy pleaded, grabbing Jemma’s hand.  


“I don’t know,” Jemma said slowly, “It’s the weekend and the boys might have plans.”  


Daisy looked at her with large puppy dog eyes and her bottom lip stuck out.  


“Fine! But the boys might be busy so be on your best behavior,” she turned back to Bobbi, “both of you!”  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


The boys were doing nothing. Fitz and Mack sat on the couch playing video games as Hunter walked in wearing a silk kimono that barely covered what it needed to.  


“It’s Friday night chaps. It’s on.”  


“Change, Hunter,” Mack said, pausing the game. Fitz put down the controller and leaned his head back against the couch, groaning.  


“What happened Hunter?” Fitz sighed, gesturing sadly at his kimono-clad friend, “You didn’t use to be like this.”  


“What are you talking about? What’s wrong? It’s Friday night gents!”  


“Yes, which means that I am going to sit and play video games all weekend in silence and avoid leaving this place as much as possible,” Fitz said, hitting resume on the game.  


“But I’ve got us invites to a very awesome party with very beautiful women and I am not going to decline,” Hunter said, sitting down on the chair.  


“Are you even wearing underwear? How much is separating you from that chair?” Mack asked, looking away from the game again and causing his character to get hit repeatedly, his side of the screen turning red. Fitz yelled as Mack put the controller down and turned to face Hunter.  


“Just a little bit of sunshine,” Hunter said, smiling.  


“Take off the kimono, Hunter. It’s not right.” Mack said, shaking his head.  


“It’s leisure wear, Mack. It’s my treat to myself.”  


“It’s not right and you look ridiculous.”  


“I worked a long week and if you had a job you’d understand.”  


Mack shook his head incredulously. He had been searching for a new job after being laid off his previous one. It was a sensitive subject. Fitz grimaced and stared heavily at his game, trying to melt into the couch without losing focus.  


“Really? Really. Wow, things just got real in here. Okay, you won’t take the kimono off then… then I’m not wearing any pants.” Mack stepped out of his sweats and stood facing Hunter. “Boom. Everyone walking around wearing whatever, no matter how stupid. Then fine, Hunter, I’m wearing a napkin on my head!” Mack grabbed a napkin off the coffee table, opened it, and lightly placed it on top of his head. Fitz leaned to better see the television as Hunter stood up.  


“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even close to being the same!”  


“Oh really! I feel like it is,” Mack said, stuffing more napkins down his shirt, creating a bib.  


Fitz leaned farther and farther as Mack stuffed napkins behind his ears and up his nose.  


“You are being ridiculous, Mack! You are laughing in the face of an entire culture!”  


“Me! This is what you’re driving us to, Hunter!”  


“This was handcrafted! In China!”  


“Maybe take off the kimono, Hunter,” Fitz said, pausing the game.  


“I will not! Now this is-”  


They froze at the sound of the front door opening, Hunter standing in his kimono pointing at Mack, who was large form was covered in napkins and pantless, and Fitz sitting on the couch between them.  


“Umm, whatcha doin’ guys?” Jemma stared at the scene in confusion, her hand still on the doorknob.  


“Nothing.”  


“Chilling.”  


“Friday night, ya know.”  


Fitz put his face in his hands as Hunter spotted Bobbi and tried to pose nonchalantly, resting his arm on the couch but not sitting. Daisy began to laugh.  


“Oh hey, Bobbi,” Hunter said, his arm draped strangely as to show his biceps.  


“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Bobbi said, blinking at Hunter. She hiccuped and then made her way down the hall. Daisy giggled at the scene in front of her before walking down the hall and into Jemma’s room as to wait her turn for the bathroom.  


“I am so so sorry!” Jemma whimpered, turning to face the men in front of her, “Daisy broke up with her boyfriend, which I’m honestly not too upset about, but it means she’s very vulnerable and they’re both drunk and Ward is at their place.” Jemma breathed deeply, covering her face for a second. Slowing down her speech slightly she continued, “I normally wouldn’t bring them here when they’re like this. Bobbi has no boundaries when she’s drunk; she gets really handsy and flirty and Daisy gets into party mode and just eggs her on, so I apologize for anything they might do. They’re my best friends-”  


“Jemma,” Fitz interjected, “It’s okay. It’s not a problem if they stay here.”  


Jemma smiled and breathed deeply.  


“So what do you mean by the boundaries and handsy things?” Hunter asked lightly. Fitz rolled his eyes as Mack turned slowly to Hunter with a look of disappointment through the blockading napkins that were stuck up his nose.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


As Jemma was gathering blankets and pillows for her friends’ impromptu beds, she heard music begin to blare from the living room. She made her way down the hall, desperately trying the keep ahold of the pillow that was slipping out of her fingers. Daisy and Bobbi were jumping and dancing in place as Hunter did whatever he called dancing around them, still in his kimono. Mack was holding a beer, his napkins now thrown away and his pants back on, and somewhat dancing next to Daisy. Fitz sat on the couch fiddling with the beer in his hand.  


“You know, this is the exact opposite of what being alone looks like. I really don’t mind you being here and all but this is not what I had in mind for my weekend!” Fitz shouted over the music.  


“Hey! What’cha doin’ guys? I have the stuff to make both your beds. Daisy? Bobbi? It’s time for bed now,” Jemma said kindly, trying her best not to appear frustrated.  


“You!” Daisy shouted playfully, pointing at Fitz, “Dance! Come on, get up!” She danced her way over to Fitz and began her attempt at pulling him up.  


“That’s okay. I really would rather not-”  


“Come on!” Daisy pulled him up to a standing position.  


“Daisy, he said he didn’t want to dance,” Jemma tried politely.  


“I’m really not the dancing type. You see Hunter would be y-” He was cut off by Daisy tearing open his shirt and laughing hysterically as Fitz bent over trying to do up the buttons again.  


“I’m going to bed,” Jemma said flatly, dropping the bed materials on the couch with a thud.  


“I think it’s time for bed now,” Fitz said kindly, walking away from Daisy and gathering up a blanket and pillow and placing it down on the couch for her.  


“Bob, you can sleep in my bed!” Hunter exclaimed, jumping on and over the couch and guiding her to his room. Daisy laid down and Fitz placed the blanket over her, rubbing his hand down his face as she began to snore lightly.  


Hunter lead Bobbi to his room and made sure she was alright before closing the door and jumping over a kitchen chair on his way back into the living room.  


“She is sleeping in my bed, gents! The beautiful, blonde, kick your ass, bombshell is sleeping in my bed!” He whispered excitedly, clapping his hands together as in prayer. “I am one step closer to wooing her, just you watch!” He ran up the wall and landed in a karate pose.  


“Well, at least it tires him out,” Mack said, watching as Hunter figure skated down the hall to the bathroom.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“I know last night wasn’t a shining moment, but really you’ll love them.” Jemma smiled as she prepared scrambled eggs and toast. Fitz sat at the counter, lazily eating his cereal as she talked. 

“Would you like some eggs?” Jemma asked brightly.  


“No, I’m alright. I’ve got my own breakfast.”  


“Sugar cereal isn’t a breakfast, it’s a dessert, Fitz.”  


“Jemma, I don’t need you to...”  


“What?”  


“I don’t know, take care of me. Just stop being so nice.”  


“Oh please, Fitz,” Jemma said jokingly, smiling brightly at him.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


Bobbi awoke to Hunter doing pull-ups in the frame of his bedroom doorway.  


“Oh my God! What the hell!” Bobbi said, sitting up groggily and attempting to unstick her hair from her mascara glooped face.  


“Oh, I was just getting in my daily ab crunches,” Hunter said, swaying. His feet were strapped to the top of the doorframe and his body hung limp upside down. “How are you this-” His head hung limp and his mouth drooped open.  


“Hunter?” Bobbi got up sloppily and tapped Hunter on the arm. “You alright?”  


Hunter jolted awake. “Wha- Sorry, I think I just passed out. Did anything happen?”  


“Look I would really like some water, is there any way you could just-”  


“Oh no, just slide me like a curtain.”  


Bobbi pushed her way past Hunter and into the kitchen.  


“Hey could you maybe-” he attempted. The door slammed behind him as he swung back limply.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


Daisy sat in Jemma’s room cross-legged on the bed as Jemma entered with a tray of eggs, toast, and a glass of water.  


“Why are you the best?” Daisy sighed, taking the tray from Jemma.  


“Because I am.” Jemma smiled, sitting on the bed next to Daisy.  


“Where’s Bobbi?” Daisy asked, biting into the toast.  


“Taking a shower. I found Hunter standing outside the bathroom door after Mack got him down from the doorframe -- don’t ask. He conveniently needed to brush his teeth.”  


“Cute.”  


“Yeah.”  


Daisy took a bite of her eggs as the door swung open, revealing Fitz.  


“Hey Jemma-- oh, hi Daisy. Jem I was just wondering if you needed anything from the store. I’m heading there in a bit.”  


“Yes! I actually need rather a lot. It might be best if I just come with you.”  


“Ok, sounds good.” He smiled and tapped the door frame before closing the door lightly.  


Daisy smiled into her water glass as Jemma continued to smile at the shut door.  


“He calls you Jem,” Daisy said lightly.  


“Yes. What about it?” Jemma turned to her friend confused.  


“Jemma. Come on. He’s totally into you!”  


“What! Fitz. Phshhh, no. That’s ridiculous. Fitz! Into me! Please.”  


“Jemma!”  


“No! Daisy! No. You are not ruining this. We are friends! And I actually think they’re starting to warm up to me! Please don’t make this into something.”  


“Make it into something? Jemma! Did you hear the way he says your name.”  


“He’s Scottish, Daisy that’s how Scottish people say my name.”  


“And his feet! Jemma, his feet were pointed directly at you! A man’s feet point at what they want!”  


“If he stood any other way, he’d be standing like a duck.”  


Daisy rolled her eyes, her sly smile refusing to budge. “Just go on your grocery store date.”  


“It’s not-- Daisy! Will you just keep an eye on Bobbi while I’m gone, please! Also, don’t flirt with the boys. Mack is too busy to date and Hunter, well he’s sweet and more sensitive than you think.”  


“I’m not the Hunter problem.”  


“That’s why I said watch Bobbi.” Jemma shut the door and made her way to Fitz, the sprouting seed that Daisy planted tickling the back of her mind.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


As they walked around the store, Jemma couldn’t help but notice people’s feet. To Jemma’s dismay, there did appear to be a trend with the happiness of a couple and the direction feet were pointing, aligning with Daisy’s hypothesis.  


“So how long have you known them for?”  


Jemma looked up from the floor and at Fitz. He was staring at a shelf and picking up a bottle of shampoo. He was rather handsome, with strong features and gorgeous eyes, and he was rather symmetrical.  


“I’ve known Daisy since I was eleven. Her parents work brought her to England and we’ve been friends ever since. Daisy became friends with Bobbi through modeling and the rest is history.”  


Jemma stared down at her feet. As Fitz turned away from the shelf, his feet pointed directly at her. Her mind went blank in a strange panic.  


“You seem to take care of them a lot,” he said, placing the bottle in the cart. Jemma continued to stare at his feet.  


“What? I’m sorry. What did you say?” Her eyes flicked up to his face. He was looking at her, concern and confusion in the ocean of his eyes.  


“I just mean, you take care of people. It’s just something you do.”  


She looked back down at the ground to find his feet still pointing at her. Was Daisy right? Did Fitz like her?  


“I’m sorry, just-” She began to move around him, staring as his feet followed her.  


“Jemma? What are you doing?” He looked from her line of sight and back up at her, his concern growing.  


“Okay, yes…” She continued to move back and forth to either side of him.  


“Jemma I just meant- Jemma? What are you doing?”  


“I’m just walking around like a friend. Friendly walking around.”  


“Okay… Jemma, let’s just get the last thing on the list and go home, alright.”  


“Okay, friend.”  


“Sure. We just need toilet paper.”  


“Umm I don’t,” she had opened her mouth before she knew what she was saying, “I don’t use it.”  


“You don’t use toilet paper?”  


“That’s not what I- That’s not what I meant.”  


He placed his hand on her arm and looked into her eyes, causing her heart to stop beating for a second and instead choose to leap into her throat.  


“You feeling alright, Jemma?” Daisy was right. Her name sounded lovely when he said it.  


When they were back in the car and stuck in traffic, Jemma tried her best to calm herself. She knew it was just Daisy getting into her head, but it was bothersome nonetheless. She began to overthink everything that had ever occurred between them. The way he passed the popcorn to her first when they watched movies, the way he smiled at her in the mornings, even though he was as far from a morning person as possible. The more she thought about it, the more Daisy’s theory began to line up in her brain. She was snapped away from her conclusion making by Fitz’s voice.  


“What?”  


“I said are you feeling alright, Jemma?”  


“Why do you have to say my name like that?”  


“Like what?”  


“Like that! In that accent?”  


“Because it’s my accent! Jemma, what’s gotten into you?”  


“I just need some air.” Jemma rolled down the windows and attempted to breathe as deeply as possible when a woman selling flowers on the sidewalk came by.  


“Flowers?” The woman asked kindly.  


“Sure, two for two dollars? Great! Thank you!” Fitz smiled as the woman walked away.  


“You want a rose?” He asked amusedly, “Take it, it’s no big deal.”  


“Oh, my heavens!” Jemma opened the passenger door, grocery bags in hand, and ran down the street and turned the corner, leaving Fitz to helplessly call after her, still holding the rose.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“Really? What is my culture, Hunter?” Daisy sat next to Bobbi on the couch, her arms folded and attempting to keep a smile off her face as Hunter tried to come back from his major misstep. Bobbi smiled slightly as Hunter began stumbling through one sentence after the next, Mack shaking his head at each blunder while gaining a deep respect for the girls on the couch.  


“And you know, Mulan. Mulan is a movie that-”  


“And you’re done.” Daisy cut him off before he could continue to make a fool of himself. “I’m half white, half Chinese.”  


“Oh, that’s really cool,” Hunter said before shutting his mouth tightly.  


“You want to take a lap, Hunter?” Mack said from the corner of the couch.  


“Yep.”  


As Hunter jumped up from the chair, the door swung open.  


“I walked home!” Jemma exclaimed, dropping grocery bags on the floor and shutting the door.  


“What happened?”  


“His feet! They were pointed at me the whole time?”  


Daisy nodded her head.  


“You told her the theory?” Bobbi asked.  


“Who’s feet?” Mack looked from Jemma to Daisy to Bobbi confused.  


“What theory?” Hunter asked from the kitchen as he grabbed a water.  


“Is it my posture? I have really sexy posture?”  


“What is happening?” Mack asked, still confused.  


The door burst open again.  


“Hey, Fitz!” Bobbi greeted.  


“Seriously Jemma, what the hell happened? I have been driving around looking for you for a whole bloody hour! We were in the middle of traffic, Jemma.”  


Jemma began to bend forward, curving her posture and covering herself with her arms. Mack looked on very confused and Bobbi covered her face with her hand.  


“You just jumped out of my car.”  


“It wasn’t moving… I was hot.”  


“So hot you had to get out and run home? Why are you standing like that?”  


“This is how I stand.”  


“I have never seen you stand like that. Jemma, I was really worried about you. You can’t just walk around this neighborhood with bags full of toilet paper, which you don’t even use!”  


Everyone stopped and looked at Jemma.  


“I said I didn’t use toilet paper,” Jemma whispered. Now Daisy had her face in her hands.  


“This is ridiculous,” Daisy began, dropping her hands, “Fitz, do you-”  


“No, Daisy! Stop-” Jemma lunged and pulled Daisy back. Daisy leaned forward, Jemma clinging onto her shoulders. As they struggled, Bobbi attempted to pull Jemma off of Daisy as the boys watched in utter confusion. Jemma’s hand covered Daisy’s mouth and then eyes. Daisy fell to her knees and Jemma along with her. Bobbi got pulled down as well as Jemma’s watch had gotten caught in her hair. They shouted at each other, Daisy repeatedly shouting, “My face is my job,” as Bobbi yelped with every one of Jemma’s arm movements, and Jemma crying apologies as they all tried to stand up.  


“Why do you two make everything so difficult!” Jemma finally said, sitting down and crossing her legs, Bobbi collapsing next to her.  


“Make things difficult?” Daisy shouted, “What? Trying to help you be happy! Trying to push you!” She sat down on the floor across from Jemma, tears glazing her eyes.  


“I like my pace!” Jemma said, finally untangling her wrist from Bobbi’s hair, “I like my life like it is now. I’m not like the two of you. I don’t just jump into the potato sack with the first v-neck wearing potato I see.”  


“What did you just say?” Daisy asked.  


“You heard me biatch.”  


The three girls froze, a deep silence forming, and then burst into laughter, holding their sides as they laughed at themselves and each other in equal amounts. Jemma looked around and realized that the boys were listening, Mack staring confusedly at the girls on the ground, Hunter holding an open bottle of water midair, and Fitz still in front of the door dumbfounded as to what he just witnessed.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“Hey, I’m sorry about today.”  


Jemma walked into the bathroom to find Fitz, starting to brush his teeth. He looked at her through the reflection of the mirror.  


“It’s okay. Are you okay?”  


“Yeah, I’m okay.”  


He smiled at her, his blue eyes gleaming. She walked over and picked up her toothbrush, her slippers making a swooshing sound against the tile. Fitz held his toothbrush in his mouth as he aided her with the toothpaste. They each took turns to smile at one another while the other wasn’t looking and brushed their teeth in peaceful silence.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


Later that night, Hunter walked into his room. He was exhausted and embarrassed, completely convinced that he had just blown a once in a lifetime opportunity with Bobbi. He missed his bed and his silk sheets. He opened the door slowly to his room. Bobbi was lying under the covers in a matching pajama set of Jemma’s. Hunter breathed in sharply.  


“Hey Bob, I know that this isn’t likely to happen between us, if at all. It’s just- it’s been a day. I embarrassed myself in front of the most badass women I have ever met, honestly, the three of you could probably kick my ass all the way back to England from here. The couch is taken by Daisy and the floor is surprisingly uncomfortable. I would just like to sleep in my own bed, please.”  


“Okay.” Bobbi smiled at him and he smiled back. She shifted over to one side of the bed. Hunter made his way to his side and pulled back the covers, shifting his weight as to get comfortable.  


“I’m sorry about today. I can be a jerk sometimes,” Bobbi said softly, staring at the ceiling.  


“That’s okay,” he paused, “I hate sleeping alone.”  


“Me too.”  


Bobbi closed her eyes and searched the bed until she found his hand lying next to hers. She took it and intertwined their fingers.  


“If you tell anyone, I really will kick your ass all the way back to England.”  


Hunter closed his eyes and smiled.


	5. A British Thanksgiving

Jemma often equated the teaching of middle school biology to driving down a road full of unavoidable potholes. These potholes included things like accidentally saying orgasms instead of organisms when reading from the textbook or children laughing at terms like sperm whale or every time the word sex appeared. It also included witnessing the lack of care that is drowning an innocent plant in soda for the sake of a half-baked last-minute science project, honestly the nerve of twelve-year-olds. Having great friends and wonderful roommates to unwind with after driving down this bumpy, but nonetheless rewarding, road made the job a whole lot easier. But having someone that understood the experience, a fellow teacher, a comrade in arms so to speak, was nice too. That was what Antoine Triplett was.  


Antoine Triplett, Mr. Trip as the students called him and Trip to the faculty, was the beloved P.E. teacher at The Academy, the private school Jemma taught at. He was incredibly handsome and kind and Jemma couldn’t help but admire him. Plus, the crush that Jemma had on him aided in distracting her from other, more problematic, feelings that had begun to blossom within her for her grumpy, stubborn, handsome, funny, brilliant- Jemma shook her head. She wasn’t to think about the blue-eyed scot in that way, not when it meant risking her friendship with him. Instead, she would channel those feelings into friendship, and work, and the handsome Mr. Trip.  


In an attempt to get the kids engaged with biology, Jemma had arranged them to learn about human anatomy through fun physical activities. Seeing as it was the day before fall break, it was all Jemma could do to keep her students from flying off the rails and stay engaged with learning. She even brought in Trip to help with the class.  


“Thank you so much for your help, Trip,” Jemma said over her shoulder as she packed up the over-plush dodge balls.  


“My pleasure.” Trip said as he dumped his armload into the wire rolling basket and shut the lid, the clanging sound ringing in the open gym.  


“So, have any plans for the holiday?” Jemma asked, trying to keep her cool by resting her arm against the basket. It rolled away from her and she stumbled, barely keeping herself from falling to the floor. Trip grabbed the cart before it ran into the brick wall, putting down the brakes so as to keep it from rolling away. All the while Jemma’s face flushed bright red as he turned back to her.  


“I’m not really doing anything. We normally have it at my grandma’s-”  


“That’s great!”  


“But she just died so…”  


“Oh, I’m so sorry!” It took everything in Jemma’s power not to bolt from the room at that moment, wiping invisible dirt from her dress just to keep her clicking feet planted.  


“Thanks. Well, I guess I should be going. Enjoy your break.” He flashed a brilliant smile and turned to go, slinging his duffle bag over his broad shoulders. Suddenly, a thought came to Jemma’s mind, causing her to smile with nervous anticipation.  


“Hey, Trip?”  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“Hello, boys!”  


Jemma threw the door to the loft open, balancing a completely frozen turkey on her knee and trying desperately not to fall over as the door swung wide. The three men sitting on the couch swung around to see the chaos as the turkey slipped from Jemma’s hands and fell to the floor with an icy thud. Swinging the reusable grocery bags over her shoulder, Jemma picked up the frozen behemoth and stood proudly in front of her roommates.  


“I went to five different grocery stores and got the last turkey left in America! Happy Thanksgiving!”  


“Jemma, love, you do know that we’re British, right? We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.” Hunter gestured to the turkey with his beer bottle, taking a swig and turning back to the football match.  


“Mack’s American! Don’t you at least celebrate Thanksgiving?”  


“I haven’t had an American Thanksgiving in three years.”  


“Don’t you visit your family or anything?” Jemma questioned.  


“I see them at Christmas. Everyone’s too busy for Thanksgiving and avoiding a holiday where we all might kill each other is for the better. We call each other, say the I love you, miss you thing, and then wait for the chaos of Christmas.”  


“Jemma, we do British Thanksgiving. We order take-out Chinese food, watch football--real football--, drink beer, and then go to Best Buy for Black Friday, the beer and Best Buy the only things that coincide with American Thanksgiving,” Fitz added as Hunter and Mack raised their beers to tradition.  


“Dudesgiving,” Hunter said proudly.  


Fitz bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, “For the last time we’re not calling it that Hunter.”  


“It’s real, mate.”  


“No. It’s not. It’s ridiculous and no matter how many emails you send-”  


“Guys, please!” Jemma dropped the turkey to the floor, “It won’t be a big deal! I’m just cooking dinner is all. Dinner for you guys, me, and Trip.” She added the last part in an almost whisper.  


“What?” Hunter asked, his eyebrows raising. Mack lowered his beer from his lips.  


“Did you say ‘and Trip?’ Who’s Trip?” Fitz asked, “Did you invite someone named Trip to our house?”  


“Yes, I did,” Jemma said smiling. She laughed slightly, her grin spreading to her eyes, “I asked someone out!”  


“You asked someone out?” Fitz said, eyebrows raising slightly. Mack and Hunter looked from Fitz to Jemma and back again before Hunter smiled warmly.  


“Jemma,” he said kindly, “Be honest. Is the turkey named Trip?” He laughed at his own joke and took a swig of his beer right as Mack smacked his shoulder, causing the beer to slosh down his shirt.  


“No, the turkey isn’t named Trip. Trip is a real guy and he teaches at my school and he’s kind and tall and symmetrical looking. And, for your information, the turkey is named Hank. Hank’s giving,” She smiled proudly, “and we are going to eat him for dinner. A real, proper, dinner.” Jemma picked up the turkey and stumbled to the kitchen as Hank attempted to slip from her grasp.  


“Hank’s giving,” Fitz said incredulously. The three men stood up from the couch, beers in hand, and sat at the counter as Jemma ran to get the rest of the groceries from her car.  


Jemma came swiftly back into the kitchen, placing more bags on the counter. “Don’t worry you guys, I’ll take care of everything! We’ll have a nice, healthy, Thanksgiving dinner.”  


“Are we going to be able to talk to this Trip guy or is he a teacher too?” Mack asked, watching as Jemma bounced around the kitchen like she was in a pinball machine.  


“He’s the PE teacher at my school and I’m sure the four of you will get along splendidly! You see, normally he spends Thanksgiving with his grandmother but she passed away recently.”  


“That sounds like a great plan, Jem. You’ll be the girl who replaces his dead nan,” Fitz said, the words dripping with sarcasm.  


“I know!” Jemma said happily as she walked out of the kitchen to grab the last grocery bag from by the front door, “Isn’t it sweet.”  


“This is bad guys, he’ll be the fifth roommate, I’m telling you,” Mack said, ducking his head low so the other two had to lean in, “We’ve got to make sure he’s a good guy.”  


“It’s a first date, Mack,” Fitz advised, shaking his head. They all sat up as Jemma reentered the kitchen.  


“Don’t worry guys, I’ll take care of everything. You just drink your beers and enjoy Thanksgiving. Just out of curiosity, do any of you know anything about cooking?”  


Fitz and Mack looked at each other and then at Hunter, who had ducked his chin to his chest, his eyes shut tight.  


“You know, just the basics for cooking a turkey,” Jemma continued as she unpacked the groceries, “it says you need some sort of string.”  


“Trussing string,” Hunter blurted.  


“Hunter, don’t.” Fitz put his hand on Hunter’s shoulder as if willing him to stay seated.  


“That’s a good turkey tip. You got any more, Hunter.”  


“Yes. Don’t start cooking Thanksgiving dinner the night before. Second, don’t ask a guy out on the least sexy holiday.”  


“What are the sexiest holidays?” Jemma asked curiously.  


“Women’s history month and Christmas, obviously,” Hunter said, counting them off on his fingers.  


“Please, Hunter! Will you help me.”  


“Nope. Can’t do it, love.”  


“What if I invite Bobbi.”  


Fitz and Mack looked at Hunter with fear in their eyes, watching as the gears started to turn in Hunter’s head.  


“Don’t do it, Hunter.”  


“Stay strong, man.”  


“Come on Hunter, Thanksgiving with Bobbi.”  


“No, Hunter.”  


“Okay,” Hunter blurted, jumping up from his stool, “But, you see, it may come as a shock to you that I have some control issues when it comes to the kitchen. So, laying rules out now, I will be in charge and you don’t touch anything.”  


“And so it begins,” Mack said, grabbing his beer and walking back to the couch. Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose as Hunter began organizing the groceries.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


With only a few hours until Trip’s arrival, the turkey was still frozen solid. They had tried everything from trying to squeeze it in the oven, which had resulted in a jar worthy joke from Hunter, to Jemma lying on the ground trying to warm it with body heat, at which point Bobbi had entered and they all collectively decided that there had to be a better way of going about it. That was why the turkey was in the dryer.  


“I put it on permanent press,” Jemma said, watching as the turkey bounded around the dryer.  


“Great. So you don’t have to iron it,” Fitz deadpanned.  


At that moment, the doorbell rang, causing Jemma to jump, a small squeak escaping her lips as she turned to her friends, brushing back the stray strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “How do I look?” Jemma asked, her eyes screaming with nerves.  


“It’s better if you don’t know,” Hunter said, patting her on the shoulder kindly. Fitz slapped him in the chest as Mack smacked the back of his head. Jemma groaned and ran to the door, the others slowly trailing behind her and lining up like they were greeting guests to Downton Abbey. Jemma took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing a handsome looking Trip holding a bottle of wine and a board game. He was dressed nicely in a smart blazer and dark slacks. He looked put together and professional, especially when compared to Jemma’s disheveled cooking clothes and the welcome wagon in front of him. Bobbi was wearing her normal effortless attire, Mack and Fitz were both in a t-shirt and jeans with Fitz wearing a zip-up hoodie, and Hunter was wearing an apron over his v-neck and dark denim combo. Worrying he would feel out of place, Jemma tried to greet him as warmly as her nerves would allow and smiled brightly. However, Trip didn’t seem to think anything was at all out of place, even with the thudding of Hank's carnival ride coming from the dryer.  


“Welcome to our home. Everyone this is Trip” Jemma said brightly, presenting Trip to the group. They all waved somewhat awkwardly at him. He nodded at all of them, his hands effortlessly in his pockets. They all relaxed somewhat at Trip’s easy nature and Jemma offered him a drink. He took one gladly and sat by Bobbi at the counter, Hunter rushing back to the kitchen to continue the meal and not to be close to Bobbi at all. Fitz and Mack sat back on the couch as Jemma rushed to the fridge and grabbed a drink for Trip.  


“All right, I’m going to go freshen up and I will be right back! Oh, and Trip brought a board game that we can all play after dinner!” Jemma went to rush back to her room when she heard Fitz mutter to Mack about just wanting to watch the match.  


“Hey Fitz, can I talk to you please.” Fitz walked to Jemma’s room, Jemma following. She shut the door with a click and turned to him sharply.  


“What, Simmons?”  


“I’m just asking you not to do that thing you do,” Jemma said in a forceful whisper, “The thing where you get all distant and grumpy and make that face like you can’t believe what your hearing and then pinch your nose and huff.”  


“I don’t do any of those things.”  


“You do all of those things. Fitz, please. Just don’t talk about politics or overly complicated engineering ideas to purposely confuse people. Just be nice to him okay. Please, he’s the first guy I’ve liked since Milton.”  


Something ran across Fitz’s face that Jemma couldn’t quite identify before he sighed, looking at her kindly. He shrugged, “Okay.”  


“Thank you, Fitz. You’re the best.”  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


Hunter ran around the kitchen like a turkey with its head cut off, giving orders like he was the head chef at a five-star restaurant, even though his only assistant at the moment was Bobbi, who was halfheartedly cracking walnuts and watching Hunter amusedly.  


Trip was talking to Mack, the two sharing pictures of their family. Mack was very interested in the story of Trip’s grandfather who fought in World War II alongside the famous war hero, Steve Rogers. Fitz sat on the couch awkwardly next to them, trying his best to be nice but talk of family made him uncomfortable so he quietly watched the match.  


“Bobbi! What are you doing! Did you wash your hands before touching the walnuts?” Hunter yelled, dropping the potato he was peeling onto the immaculate countertop.  


“It’s fine. I’ll wash them after,” Bobbi replied, continuing on with her task.  


“You’ve contaminated the whole bowl!” Hunter exclaimed. The two stood facing each other directly, the bowl of walnuts in between them.  


“They’re fine, Hunter. Look, I’ll prove it.” Bobbi took a walnut from the bowl and placed it into her mouth. Hunter looked at her with his mouth open, a look of horror in his eyes.  


“Eat a walnut, Hunter.”  


“No. I’m fine, thank you.”  


“Are you scared?” Bobbi taunted, picking up a walnut from the bowl and inching closer to Hunter. She went to put the walnut in his mouth only to have Hunter smack her hand away and retreat to the sink.  


“Beautiful hell-beast,” Hunter muttered as Bobbi giggled at him.  


Jemma walked into the living room, now dressed nicely in a long-sleeved purple dress that fell just below the knee. Her hair was done nicely and she smiled brightly.  


“What are you guys gobbling about?” Jemma laughed, Trip laughing with her.  


“We’re just talking about family,” Trip replied, “Mack was just showing a picture of his father and himself when he was younger.”  


“Oh, I’d love to see that, Mack!” Jemma said happily, sitting next to Trip on the couch.  


Mack showed her the picture, smiling reminiscently at the photo on his phone. They started to talk about their parents and funny moments from childhood. Fitz stared pointedly at the television, though not really seeing what was on the screen at all.  


“What about you, Fitz?” Trip asked, kindly trying to invite Fitz into the conversation, “What are your parents like?”  


Fitz looked down at his hands, massaging his palm with the thumb of his other hand. Mack, who had lifted his beer to drink from it, slowly dropped his drink from his lips and looked at Fitz carefully, ready to change the subject if Fitz began to fumble.  


“My mum’s great,” Fitz said, the corners of his lips trying their best to remain upturned. “I’m convinced she’s the only person in the world who knows how to make mince pies correctly. Her try at American food, however, leaves much to be desired.” They all laughed and Fitz breathed a sigh of relief only too soon.  


“And your dad? What’s he like?” Trip asked. Mack looked as though he were about to tackle someone and Jemma noticed Fitz go slightly pale, or paler.  


“It’s just me and my mum,” Fitz said stiffly. Hunter, who had been arguing with Bobbi over sanitation in the kitchen, heard the question posed to Fitz and felt that then would be a good moment to announce that they needed new walnuts, as Bobbi had contaminated them all.  


“I can get some more,” Trip said, standing up, “Though, come to think of it, I’ve had a few drinks so it might be better if I didn’t drive.”  


“Fitz, you haven’t had anything to drink. Could you take Trip to get more walnuts?” Jemma asked, her eyes pleading to him and begging for help. They battled silently, their eyes screaming words at each other no one else could understand.  


“Sure. Come on Trip, let’s go.”  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“How did it go?” Jemma asked as the two walked back through the door.  


“We got the walnuts.” Fitz held up the bag of walnuts and continued on to the kitchen.  


“Hey, can I ask you a question about Fitz,” Trip said.  


“Sure,” Jemma replied.  


“Do you two have a past or something?”  


“What? Fitz and I! No! We-” At that moment there was a large bang as the dryer exploded. They all jumped and Hunter ran, tearing off his shirt and fanning the smoke away with it, all the while yelling “turkey” at the top of his lungs. Smoke billowed from the dryer, filling up the loft and driving the party away. They opened all the windows and tried their best to clear the smoke, but it was no use. Jemma put her face in her hands, her heart in her throat. Her first date with Trip was an utter disaster.  


-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-  


“I’m sorry, Jemma,” Fitz said, looking at his shoes.  


“I’m sorry I caused us to need a new dryer,” Jemma said, trying to keep her voice light.  


“That’s alright. Just blame Hunter. That’s what Mack and I normally do.” He looked up at her, though his head still remained somewhat down, and the corners of his lips turned upward. She laughed, the laugh melting away some of the sadness that blocked her throat.  


Trip had said that he had something he needed to do and had left, leaving the rest of the group to stand in the cold outside the Best Buy. They were surrounded by people who were strangely strict about the rules of the line, treating butters like witches during the Salem trials. Fitz stood next to Jemma in the long line, complaining of hunger every now and again. Bobbi and Hunter stood close together, Bobbi wrapped in Hunter’s jacket, while Mack leaned against the wall, his eyes closed. There was a voice in the distance that sounded slightly familiar. They all stood up and began looking around for the source of the voice. Trip came running down the line of people, landing in front of Jemma.  


“Hey! Sorry, I’m late. I was searching for a deli that was still open, which took a shockingly long time.” He grinned a bright smile and held up a bag full of turkey sandwiches and water.  


“You came back,” Jemma sighed, her eyes glazing over with happy tears.  


“Of course. I didn’t want the date to end. Not when I was having so much fun.” Jemma quirked her eyebrows up questioningly. “Ok,” he said, “the exploding dryer was a first but still, I was having a great time.” Jemma laughed, hugging Trip tightly. Everyone began passing around the water and sandwiches when there was a shout from behind them.  


“Hey! We’ve got a butter!”  


“No, we don’t! Calm down,” Fitz said, turning to face the shouting man, “I saved his spot, it’s okay!” He turned to Jemma who began to protest as Fitz stepped out of the line, “I’m going to the back, this spot’s for Trip.” He smiled genuinely at Trip who smiled back.  


“Thanks, man.”  


There was a pause in which they watched as Fitz walked to the back of the line then looked at one another.  


“Fitz!” Jemma called after him, “Wait!”  


She grabbed Trip’s hand and stepped out of the line, pulling Trip along with her as she jogged to catch up with him. Hunter and Bobbi followed and Mack, sandwich in hand, made up the rear. Fitz turned around to see them jogging towards him, laughing as Jemma began to skip.   


“To Thanksgiving!” Mack shouted, raising his sandwich in the air.  


“To Hank the turkey!” Fitz toasted.  


“God save the queen!” Hunter shouted at full voice. Bobbi smacked his chest. Jemma laughed, arm in arm with Trip, as Mack, Hunter, and Fitz all raised their sandwiches in the air, bellowing "God Save the Queen," and walked to the back of the line.


	6. The Christmas Party From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, homework sucks. But it's summer now so I can write again! I'm going to try to be better at uploading more regularly but for now enjoy this chapter!

    Jemma Simmons was amazing at gifts. She was a planner, insightful, hopeful, and understanding, making her able to always find the perfect gift, one that was both sentimental and personal. For Christmas, she bought the boys each a pair of rollerskates, anticipating their eye rolls and disgruntled expressions as their way of masking their true excitement. Even through their peevish ways, Jemma smiled and waited for their true reactions to set in. Sure enough, when Jemma rushed into the apartment later that day she found all three of them clad in roller skates; they were fighting over something but in roller skates nonetheless.

    “Guys, I really need your help. I… Are you guys wearing the roller skates I got you?”

    Shocked by her sudden presence, Fitz tumbled to the floor. Hunter, his focus on Mack who was shoving him backward, missed Fitz’s fall and ended up tripping over him and landing flat on his backside.

    “And the winner is Alphonso Mackenzie!” Mack exclaimed, rolling over to Jemma.

    “Congrats,” Jemma giggled, “Now hold still so I can take a picture of you three. Oh my goodness you guys are adorable.”

    Mack posed triumphantly as Fitz and Hunter fought each other to get up, pushing each other down as they did so.

    “Simmons, do not take that picture. Argh, Hunter stop bloody pushing me!”

    “Stop bloody pushing me!”

    “Got it! So cute. Now all of you get in my car.” Jemma commanded, slinging her purse farther up her shoulder and turning on her heel.

    Finally standing, Fitz rolled over to Jemma, braking in front of her.

    “Simmons you’re doing that thing again where you explain something in your mind and then no one else knows what’s happening.”

    “Right, of course,” Jemma said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “I need to go to the mall. I haven’t got a single clue what to get Trip for Christmas and I need your guy’s help and I’m somewhat panicking because it’s only been a month since we started dating and what if he doesn’t like what I get him! What do I get him? I mean do I-”

    “Jem, it’s okay. We’ll help you.” Fitz smiled at her, rolling towards her and gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

    “Alright then! Let’s go!”

    Jemma walked out the door turning only when she heard a large crash and Fitz’s exclamation of, “Dammit, Hunter!”

* * *

 

    At the mall and roller skate free, they each began to scour stores for gifts, the boys deciding that as long as they were there they might as well find their gifts too. They split into teams, Mack with Hunter and Fitz with Simmons, determining after the first store that all four of them together was asking for trouble.

    “Why are you so nervous about what to get him. It’s not like it’s relationship defining or anything,” Fitz said, glancing at Jemma as they walked the length of the mall, searching store windows. He was hopping on one foot as he tried to fix his shoe for the eightieth time thanks to Hunter “accidentally” flat-tiring him, that being the final straw and the reason for the teams.

    “It’s our first Christmas together! It is important!” Jemma said, finally pausing and allowing Fitz to use her shoulder as a balance, “I just have no idea what to get him, which is odd because I always know what to get people. I don’t know if it should be heartfelt or funny or both somehow. All I have so far is a coupon I made him for sex.” Jemma said, pulling out a piece of decorated cardstock.

    Fitz’s cheeks went pink as his foot hit the ground with a loud thud before he quickly composed himself and then promptly burst into laughter.

    “Why are you laughing! Fitz, don’t!” Jemma said exasperatedly, pulling Fitz from the oncoming traffic of mall-walkers as he tried to compose himself. Fitz reached across her and pulled the paper from her hand.

    “ _One coupon for nerdy sex,”_ Fitz read aloud as Jemma fought him for the piece of paper.

    “Fitz!”

    “No, I’m going to cash it in,” Fitz joked, raising the card above his head, “Seriously Simmons, thank you. Thank you so much! I finally know what to get my mum!”

    “Fitz! Give it back!” Jemma laughed, trying her best to be serious but failing miserably.

    As Jemma chased Fitz down the length of three store windows before they continued their search, Hunter looked for a gift for Bobbi.

    “It has to be perfect,” Hunter said, smelling a piece of soap from a display.

    “Whatever you get her, it’s not going to make her like you, man,” Mack said, rolling his eyes as Hunter inhaled purple glitter from the soap resulting in a tremendous coughing fit.

    “Also, shouldn’t you be worrying about making sure Fitz makes his flight?”

    “Yeah yeah, I’ll make sure Fitz makes his bloody flight,” Hunter spluttered through coughs. “He put us on the same flight so I could help him remember. Correction, Jemma put us all on the same flight so we would all remember. Thank God for Jemma or I would still be responsible for Fitz.”

    “No. Fitz is always responsible for you except for his one weakness of not being able to get on a plane in time and somehow that is a strength of yours.” Mack asserted, his eyes nearly getting stuck in the back of his head from excessive rolling.

* * *

 

    By the time they had found their gifts, Mack was only seconds away from murdering Hunter, Jemma was on the verge of a panic attack, and Fitz had mentioned that he was hungry over a dozen times. Despite all of that, Jemma purposefully missed a turn and set them on the path towards Candy Cane Lane, a neighborhood decorated to the nines with Christmas lights. Being only three in the afternoon, none of the lights were on, but Jemma insisted that they all needed to see it before they left for the holidays.

    “I don’t think we’ll have enough time-” Fitz began, tilting his head to see more of the decorations on display.

“We’ll have enough time to see it after Hunter’s work party and before our flight. It will be fine, Fitz,” Jemma assured, turning the car around and smiling at the unlit lights, “It must be absolutely adorable when the lights are all on.”

“Or kitschy. Kitschy and adorable!” Hunter assured at Jemma’s glare, raising his hands in defense.

“Shush, Hunter. Let me have this one thing tonight, okay.”

The three men exchanged glances as Jemma drove back to the apartment. It was going to be anything but a jolly holly holiday party tonight.

* * *

 

As Jemma wrapped up Trip’s gift and awaited his arrival at the apartment, she slowly felt her nerves start to rise. She had located it at a kids store and it had caused her and Fitz to nearly roll on the ground from laughter. The anatomically correct heart that sang “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees when it was squeezed was both biology related and cheesy as hell. Jemma loved it. And it had made Fitz laugh, which was a feat in itself, so it wasn’t a terrible gift if it was taken correctly. That was just it, however. Jemma couldn’t judge if Trip would take it correctly. He was easygoing and kind so he would at least accept the gift with a good heart but it wasn’t the gift that was bothering her. It was something she couldn’t quite place.

When he arrived at the apartment, they sat across from each other on her bed and exchanged gifts. Jemma opened hers first and nearly plummeted through the mattress. He had gotten her a lovely pair of blue crystal earrings.

“They’re beautiful,” Jemma sighed, her eyes stinging and her nerves escalating.  

“I’m glad you like them! Alright, my turn,” he exclaimed, picking up the gift bag. It took everything in Jemma’s power not to snatch the gift from him. Her throat closed as she anxiously watched him take the plush toy out of the bag. He looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. “Press it,” she said, half reaching for the toy before quickly pulling her hand back and willing herself to stay in the room and not run across the hall and hide under Fitz’s bed. He pressed the center of the heart and a tinny rendition of “Staying Alive” filled the room. He smiled his gleaming smile and laughed. It did nothing to relieve Jemma’s feelings of inadequacy.

“You like it?” She asked, her face on fire.

“I love it,” he assured, wrapping her in a tight hug, “I really love it. I- I love you.”

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her along with every word she had ever learned. Stuck in his embrace, Jemma fixed her hold on him slightly before quietly saying, “Thank you.”

She closed her eyes tightly, her body engulfed in the flames of embarrassment. He pulled away and smiled at her, attempting to ease her embarrassment by acting like that was a completely valid response to his declaration. She scooted slightly back and, to her horror, accidentally squeezed the toy heart under her palm, solidifying “Staying Alive” has the song that would forever haunt her nightmares.

* * *

 

Hunter had nearly begged on his knees for them all to attend his work party, knowing full well that if Jemma came then Bobbi would be more likely to brave the event. Fitz was Hunter’s ride to the airport, so he had to go, Mack had lost a bet, Daisy and Bobbi went for Jemma, and Jemma agreed because she had seen it as a chance to celebrate the holiday with Trip before she left for home. After the “I love you” situation, Jemma felt like the plane ride home was a million years away.

After arriving at Hunter’s office building, The Hub, Jemma sprinted to Daisy when she spotted her on the entrance steps, the resulting laughter lightening the weight in her chest slightly. She had brought along a new McHandsome, some Silicon Valley guy by the name of Miles. Bobbi, right behind Jemma, was nearly doubled over, her eyes watering with mirth. Daisy was sporting her usual flawless attire, paired with a dark evening glam makeup look. But on top of it all, she wore a fake handlebar mustache, smiling proudly at the reaction.

“You wore my gift!” Jemma exclaimed happily.

“Of course I did,” Daisy laughed.

“At least you finally won’t be mistaken for a fourteen-year-old now,” Bobbi giggled.

“And why aren’t you wearing your gift, Amazonian,” Daisy retorted.

“Who says I’m not.” Bobbi held up her purse triumphantly. Emblazoned across the bag was _All I want is a cheeseburger and curly fries_.

“Shut up, that’s amazing!” Daisy grabbed the bag, looking at it with pure joy. “However, it doesn’t beat my mustache. I’m going to go up to people at this fancy party and say that I mustache them a question until I get kicked out or punched.”

“Or you could take it off,” Miles grumbled, “They’ve seen it now so…”

“It’s just a joke,” Daisy muttered, taking off the mustache as they all made their way into the building. As they entered they were greeted by a scarring sight. Hunter was sitting on a red velvet chair dressed as Sexy Santa, looking as though he were trapped there before he caught sight of his friends and put on a facade of joy, calling their names cheerfully.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Mack whispered in Fitz’s ear as their group slowly dispersed into the holiday battle zone.

After floating around the party for half an hour, Jemma informed Trip that she was going to find them drinks, only to find the nearest quiet hallway and duck to find her breath.

“Hey, Jemma. You alright?”

Jemma looked up to find Fitz, a glass of water in one hand and a shortbread cookie in the other. She sighed with relief at seeing him, a person of comfort in the Christmas war zone.

“Yes of course! I’m fine! I-- Okay fine,” She ducked her chin to her chest and took a deep breath before continuing as Fitz’s blue eyes swam with concern, “Trip said that he loved me.”

A look passed over Fitz’s face and was quickly replaced by the quick raising of his eyebrows.

“Oh.”

“And I couldn’t say it back. _But_ , but, I did say thank you. Which is not at all worse. Now I have no idea what to do because I, I don’t know. I don’t really jump into things like that.”

“Jem, if you don’t feel the same you’ve got to tell him. Letting him on will only make it worse.”

“But I can’t do that! It’s Christmas! And then it’s New Years and Valentine's Day and then Rachel Carson’s birthday.”

“Can’t fight that logic.” Fitz broke his cookie in half, and handed one of the pieces to her. She smiled at him and took the piece, placing it in her mouth. “Jemma, look at me. You like him enough that you don’t want him to get hurt. You just have to tell him.”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment before launching herself off the wall. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll tell him. I’m going to tell him right now.” And she marched off, unbeknownst to Fitz, in the complete opposite direction of Trip.

* * *

 

    Daisy fought her way across the packed party zone towards the lady's restroom, pushing her way through the door and fighting back angry tears. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment before she was startled by the call of her name. She turned to find Jemma standing against the bathroom wall, arms crossed and a fourth of a cookie in her hand.

    “What are you doing in the bathroom of sadness?” Jemma asked.

    “Miles is being a jerk. You?”

    “Eating a cookie and avoiding confrontation.”

“I shall join you in that.”

“I got the cookie from Fitz, but you can join in the avoidance,” Jemma said, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.

“Gladly,” Daisy responded, sliding down the wall as well.

    Meanwhile, Bobbi, on track to the lady’s room, spun around at the call of her name. Hunter, pinned to his seat by one of his co-workers on his lap, was trying his best to get her attention. Bobbi sighed and made her way towards him, trying her best not to smile at the way his face lit up when he saw she had changed her course towards him.

    “Um… Davis. I know that you’re doing this on a bet but I’m going to need you to get off my lap please and thank you.” Bobbi laughed as the man Davis groaned and got off Hunter’s lap, a woman with short hair and a leather jacket laughing at him as he got out his wallet.

    “What was that?” Bobbi asked, smiling as Hunter massaged his thighs.

    “Piper bet Davis that he couldn’t stay on my lap for over fifteen minutes.”

    “How far did he get?”

    “Ten. And bloody hell is he heavier than he looks.”

    Bobbi laughed, the melody of her giggle lighting up Hunter’s face.

    “So, I got you something for Christmas. It’s my break so I thought I’d give it to you now.” He reached behind his chair and pulled out a small gift bag.

    Hiding how touched she was, Bobbi gently took the bag from him. She carefully tore out the tissue paper and picked up the contents of the bag. It was a small, old fashioned, bottle of perfume.

“Check the bottom.” Hunter smiled, a rare genuine grin bursting through his suave facade.

Bobbi gently turned the bottle so she could see its label. _Mockingbird_ , it read. Something pricked at Bobbi’s eyes but she quickly blinked it away.

“It’s your nickname right? What your dad calls you. You mentioned it once.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Thank you, Hunter. Merry Christmas.”

“And a Happy Christmas to you Ms. Morse.”

She smiled at him before nearly sprinting to the bathroom, afraid of letting her guard slip. She burst through the door, placed the perfume bottle gently on the counter, and turned on the sink, splashing water in her face.

“Bobbi’s got a crush,” came a teasing voice, that sounded awfully like Daisy Johnson’s, from the floor. Bobbi spun around.

“What the hell are you guys doing in here?”

“Avoiding our problems. Care to join us?”

“Please.” And Bobbi slid down the wall next to them.

* * *

    Fitz was not a fan of parties. In his dream world, he would interact in large social settings once a year at the most. But no, he had to come to a party filled with people he doesn’t even know. He wished he could find Jemma, her presence warm and calming. Instead, spotting a lonesome Trip on a balcony, he nearly ran into a glass door.    

“Who designs these places,” Fitz muttered as he pulled open the door and let it close behind him.

“Hey, Fitz,” Trip said absently, obviously lost in thought.

“Hey-lo. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Has Jemma talked to you?”

“Oh, we talked. Yeah yeah yeah.” he said, trying to flash his trademark smile but faltering slightly.

“Yeah, it’s tough mate. You know she doesn’t love you now but that doesn’t mean she might not fall in love with you later, right? Look for the positives, right.”

“What? We talked about how I was going to drive you all to the airport… Wait, Jemma told you she didn’t love me.”

Fear clenched at Fitz’s stomach as the realization of what he had just said sunk in.

“Nope. Nope. Don’t listen to me. Silly, silly me. Completely drunk. Had to much… water.” Fitz completely lost his breath as his eyes began to bug out in panic. “Just a prank,” he whispered lamely, and his chin hit his chest in horrific defeat.

* * *

 

    “He is such a great guy! Literally a perfect guy. What’s wrong with me! He’s kind and handsome, and smart. But I just don’t love him. He just isn’t it.”

    “I know, babes. It sucks,” Daisy said, placing her hand on Jemma’s knee for comfort.

    “And nothing is wrong with you. You guys just aren’t right. Being a “perfect” guy doesn’t mean he’s perfect for you,” Bobbi added, wrapping her arm around her friend’s back.

    “Can we sit in this bathroom forever, just stay here for the rest of the night?” Jemma asked, putting her face in her hands. At that moment one of the toilets flushed, reminding them all just how disgusting the bathroom floor actually was.

    “Nope, face our fears time,” Daisy said, hopping up and offering her hands to the other two, “Back to battle.”

    As Daisy and Jemma exited to their respective battlegrounds, Bobbi held back. She looked in the mirror and grabbed the bottle from where she left it on the counter. She spritzed herself with the perfume, smiling at the fresh, floral scent. Her heart fluttered as butterflies filled her stomach and giddiness bubbled in her throat. Oh goodness was she in trouble.

    Jemma made her way through the crowd before noticing Fitz and Trip on one of the balconies. Fitz had fear written in his face while Trip looked as though he had been suckerpunched, an unsettling look on someone who was normally so calm and collected. Fighting through the increasingly drunk business people, Jemma finally wrenched open the heavy glass door.

    “Hey you two. What’s going on?”

    “Oh nothing, just talking,” Fitz stammered, his inability to lie setting off alarm bells in Jemma’s brain.

    “Yeah, just about Moby Dick. Right Fitz,” Trip said, obviously glazing over something.

    “Nope. Nope. That’s a lie. I told him you didn’t love him, Jem.”

    “What!

    “He said it nicely, Jemma,” Trip tried to cut in.

    “Are you joking, Fitz! That was not your information to tell, Leo Fitz,” Jemma exclaimed over Fitz’s attempts to apologize.

    “You’re right! You’re right! I’m so sorry. I’m just going to--” he stammered, pointing at the door. He made his to the door and pulled on the handle. The door shook but refused to budge, locking them outside.

    “Oh no no no no. Please, no.”

    “Fitz!”

    “This is my nightmare. What. The. Hell! Mack! Hunter! Help me!”

    Jemma covered her face with her hands, feeling like she might fall through the floor. She sat down against the guardrail and tried to keep tears from her eyes as Fitz leaned against the door handle, eyes closed as if in prayer. Trip sat down next to her, feet straight out in front of him.

    “I’m so sorry, Trip. You’re a really great guy. I just feel really overwhelmed. I just got out of a serious relationship and I just think it’s just moving too fast.”

    “I know. Fitz told me. I’m sorry.”

    The door banged loudly as Fitz attempted to pull it open.

    “So sorry. Pretend like I’m not here. I’m not here. Not even listening.”

    “Jemma, I just thought we were feeling the same feelings, you know.”

    “I know. I was. Truly. I just think that you were feeling them a little more.”

     Another bang rang from the door.

    “Fitz! You started this. Sit down and be quiet.”

     Fitz huffed before slowly sliding down the glass door, muttering about who locks a balcony from the outside.

“I just got really hurt and I trusted Milton and I’m just not ready to do that again. I hope you understand. I just think we should slow things down a bit”

“Of course I understand. I just don’t think I can.”

“Come on Trip! She’s just asking you to slow down a bit.”

“Fitz!”

“Sorry.”

Suddenly the door was pushed open, dislodging Fitz from his spot.

“Hey, Turbo. Hey guys, I’ve been looking for you. We’ve got to go soon if you’re all going to catch your flight.

Fitz stood up quickly and patted Mack’s shoulder before escaping out the door. Seeing the situation at hand, Mack nodded at Jemma and smiled sadly. He wedged a plastic fork in the door and let the door fall as he left.

“I just want you to be happy Jemma, it just seems like we aren’t on the same page.”

“No, I guess not. I’m so sorry Trip.”

“It’s okay. All good things must come to an end, right.” He flashed a sad smile at her before standing up, offering his hand to her as he did. She took it, stood up slowly with his aid, and gave him a gentle smile.

“I think I’m just going to head home. Do you have a ride to the airport?”

“Yeah, Daisy brought a car.”

“Merry Christmas, Jemma.”

“Merry Christmas, Trip.”

Jemma opened the door and left Trip on the balcony, her eyes brimming with tears when she spotted Daisy mid fight with Miles. Daisy had angry tears in her eyes as Miles appeared to rant at her over something. Forgetting the ache in her heart completely, Jemma fought her way towards Daisy.

“They’re embarrassing, Daisy. I mean look at where we are. And that ridiculous mustache. This isn’t you.”

“Isn’t me! God! You know what, Miles. You’re not who I thought you were,” she spat, rummaging through her purse. Finding what she was looking for, Daisy stuck the mustache on her face, “I mustache you, Miles, if you hate my friends, why don’t you just leave then.”

“Fine! Goodbye, Daisy!”

“So long! And Merry fucking Christmas!”

As Miles stormed away, Jemma wrapped Daisy in a hug. Swapping breakup stories, they made their way to the car where the boys were waiting, Hunter finally wearing weather appropriate clothing.

“Jemma--” Fitz began.

“It’s okay, Fitz. Let’s just go catch out flight.”

“Did Bobbi go home?” Daisy asked, scanning over the group.

“Yeah, has an early flight tomorrow but she wishes everyone a Merry Christmas,” Hunter said, leaning against the car. They all piled in and headed off to the airport, the after effects of the party lingering in the air like smoke in the lungs.

The drive was silent with Fitz at the wheel, Jemma in the passenger seat, and Hunter, Mack, and Daisy piled in the back. Fitz looked determinedly at the road before making a sudden u-turn. Exclamations erupted in the car but Fitz continued on. Despite the time to their takeoff ticking down, Fitz continued to drive in the opposite direction. Finally reaching his destination, Fitz turned on to Candy Cane Lane. The street was quiet and dark, resulting in Fitz to swear loudly.

“Candy Cane Lane looks closed for business,” Hunter mumbled before Mack hit him in the chest.

“We missed it,” Jemma sighed, “It’s okay, Fitz. Let’s just head to the airport.”

“I’m sorry, Jemma. This was supposed to be your gift but we got stuck on the balcony from hell and… You know what. No. It’s Candy Cane Lane and it’s Christmas.” Fitz jumped out of the car, cupped his hands around his mouth and began shouting for the lights to turn on. Jemma’s eyes widened in shock as Fitz began to walk down the length of the street calling for the lights. Daisy, Mack, and Hunter exchanged looks before they too hopped out of the car and began shouting. Taking a deep breath and smiling, Jemma joined. Suddenly, the lights popped on house by house until the street was lit up like Christmas, twinkling in the cold December night sky.

Daisy and Hunter linked arms, loudly singing carols as Mack filmed them on his phone, a smile splitting his face. Fitz slowly walked up to Jemma, his cheeks and nose twinged pink from the cold. He smiled shyly at her, his hands in his pockets.

“Merry Christmas, Jemma Simmons.”

“Merry Christmas, Fitz.”

“Shit! Bloody hell! Our flight!”

Hunter ran between Fitz and Simmons and grabbed them each by the arm, pulling them towards the car. Quickly they all piled back in and sped off towards the airport. For the first time in six years, Leo Fitz had made his flight. It was truly a Christmas miracle.


	7. Valentine's

If there was any holiday that Jemma Simmons wished she could skip this year it would be Valentine’s Day. Having broken up with Trip a month and a half ago, Jemma was in the vulnerable stage dubbed by Hunter as “The Backslide Zone.” To avoid any possible attempt to contact Trip, Jemma had been placed on phone watch and had been dragged out to their local bar by Bobbi. As an extra pair of eyes, Hunter had tagged along and requested they go to The Playground where Fitz was the bartender.

The bar was loud and stuffy, filled with couples or drunk singles looking to mingle. Hunter sat at a table next to Jemma, acting as wingman and pointing out guys who seemed interested while warding off any creeps. 

“Sorry, mate. My friend here is taken. Real tall bloke you wouldn’t want to cross,” Hunter said to a rather intrusive man who was trying his best to get creepily close to Jemma.

“Thank you, Hunter. Gosh, this holiday is the worst. It’s all just chalky candy hearts and cheap chocolate boxes. Doesn’t have anything to do with love,” Jemma sighed, resting her chin in her hands.

“Honestly. Half the people in here are just looking to get laid,” Bobbi added, scanning the room.

“Ah, aren’t you two a couple of hopeless romantics,” Hunter quipped.

“What, and you aren’t a cynic when it comes to love, Mr. Sleeps-Around.”

“I am not. I believe in love for your information.”

Jemma looked between the two as they bickered about love, feeling as though she were intruding.

“I think I’m going to go get another drink,” Jemma shouted over the music and the bickering. She went to stand but was held back as Bobbi grabbed her arm.

“Phone before you go,” Bobbi insisted, holding out her hand palm up.

“What if I get kidnapped or something and need my phone?” Jemma inquired somewhat bitterly as Bobbi rolled her eyes. She understood why she was being surveilled, admittedly almost contacting Trip multiple times, but the distrust did bother her slightly. 

Bobbi gestured with her fingers to hand the phone over and Jemma reluctantly did as she was told. Rummaging in her purse, Jemma pulled out her banana-patterned phone and handed it over. Bobbi placed the phone in her purse, snapped the bag closed, and returned to her bickering with Hunter. Jemma turned on her heel and headed for the bar. She didn’t even want a drink, she just wanted away from the table and to talk to the one person who seemed to understand her mood at the moment.

“Hey, Simmons. Another beer?”

“Sure, Fitz. Thank you.”

He smiled as she sat up at the counter and he went off to fetch her a beer. She twisted her stool side to side as she waited for him to return, finally feeling somewhat comfortable for the first time that night. 

“There you are,” he said, placing the beer bottle in front of her. He leaned forward on the counter, supporting himself with his palms and his arms outstretched. He had his flannel rolled up to his elbows and a towel over his shoulder. He looked at her almost knowingly, his blue eyes scanning her face. “How’s your Valentine’s been?”

“Oh, it’s been splendid. I’ve had my phone confiscated because I can’t be trusted, been stuck between Bobbi and Hunter all night, and I’m starving. You?”

“Umm let me see. I got good tips from a table full of drunk girls at an ill-timed bachelorette party and only two people have vomited so far so we’re off to a good start.” Jemma laughed, twirling her finger around the rim of her beer bottle.

“Do you like bartending?”

“It’s not a bad job and the people are friendly. Why? Tired of teaching?” He smiled playfully at her and she shook her head.

“No. It was just that I was talking to Mack the other day and--”

“And he told you about what I used to do.”

“Yes! Why did you give it up! You were an engineer! And by what Mack said, and knowing you, you must have been incredible.”

“It just wasn’t where I needed to be. I used to work with Radcliffe, actually how I met Ophelia. She’s his personal assistant. Or at least was, I’m not sure if she still works for him. Still, he can’t answer his own phone for anything so everything had to go through her. I would always call trying to get ahold of Radcliffe and end up talking to her for hours, part of the reason we kept getting back together. We always ended up back in touch. Anyway, we had our third rather nasty break-up. Come to think of it, I think that was the time she pushed me into the server bank. Whole other story. Then I had a disagreement with Radcliffe about where the company was going. There were no hard feelings or anything. I just wasn’t in it for the money like he was. Then there was this whole thing with my da-- Far too long of a story short, it just wasn't a good fit anymore.”

“Do you think you would go back to it?” Jemma asked.

“I don’t know. Radcliffe gave my name to someone. I don’t know if you remember. He mentioned it at--”

“His wedding. Yes, I do remember now! You didn’t get back to him?”

“I did. I thanked him for the offer but I told him it just wasn’t the right time.”

“What did the person say?”

“He said to contact him when the right time came around and to reach out through Radcliffe, compile my ideas, and get to work.”

“Do you think you ever will?” 

“I might. I mean eventually. Tony Stark isn’t someone you refuse a job from forever.”

Jemma’s mouth dropped open. Tony Stark was one of the richest men in the U.S., his company one of the most influential and powerful companies in the world.

“Tony Stark,” Jemma exclaimed, “Fitz! That’s amazing. I know that you aren’t in the place for that now, but Fitz that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you! I know it’s not my place but I think you should contact Radcliffe and at least start working on some pitches. Tony Stark would be lucky to have you on his team.” 

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

Jemma grabbed his hand from across the bar. It was warm and rough and her head began to spin slightly. His cheeks went pink, his eyes dipping to the floor before springing back up and catching hers. They looked at each other for a moment before some burly man at the end of the counter gruffly shouted “barman!” and broke the moment. Fitz smiled at her apologetically and pulled his hand out from under hers.

More people began to pile at the bar, swamping Fitz. She stood up and looked down the length of the bar, catching his eye as he feverishly served drinks. She smiled brightly at him and waved. As she turned to return to Bobbi and Hunter at the table, though, he called her name. He held up his hand in a stopping gesture, mouthing the words “hold on” before running to the kitchen. A few minutes later she turned back to the bar as he sped walked down to where she stood, holding a tray full of food above his head and avoiding his coworkers. 

“If you have to be stuck between Hunter and Bobbi without your phone, I can at least fix the starving part. Don’t worry, it’s on me,” he said, placing the plate in front of her. It was half a BLT with vegetables instead of crisps. He had also given her a glass of water and a chocolate chip cookie. “Wait! One more thing.” He bent behind the bar and returned with a tiny drink umbrella with little cliche hearts on it and placed the umbrella in her water, smiling brightly before turning away when his name was called.

Returning to the table, Jemma sat next to Bobbi, slowly eating her sandwich while lost in thought. Whatever Hunter and Bobbi were talking about became white noise as thoughts spun in Jemma’s already buzzed mind. It took Bobbi snapping in front of her face to gain her attention. She shook her head and put down the remainder of her cookie, the rest of her food already scarfed down, and looked at Bobbi.

“I’m so sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked you if you were ready to go.”

“Oh, I guess if you both are.”

“You alright, love? You look kind of out of it.”

Jemma didn’t quite know if she was alright. In fact, she didn’t think she was alright at all. 

“No. I would like to go home.”

* * *

Jemma didn’t wait for Bobbi and Hunter but instead sprinted into the house, got ready for bed, and dove under the covers. Fitz got home at midnight. She remembered him complaining about it this morning. Somewhere in her alcohol-fueled mind, an idea was rising to the surface, an idea that had been brewing from the first day she had walked into the apartment. Now she just had to not chicken out, but the alcohol was on her side for that. She pulled the covers off of her head and reached for her phone to text Fitz that they needed to talk when he got home only to remember that her phone was still in Bobbi’s purse. 

Jemma sprang out of her bed and made her way to the main room. Mack was asleep on the couch, the Hallmark channel lighting up the dark and quiet room. Jemma giggled at the sight, the muscular, tough-looking man peacefully falling asleep to  _ The Lost Valentine.  _ Bobbi’s bag and shoes were gone and Hunter appeared to have gone to bed so there was no hope in retrieving her phone that night. She would just have to wait for Fitz to return. 

She quietly walking back to her room, stopping by the couch to pull a blanket over Mack and to turn off the T.V., and collapsed on her bed. Laying on her side and facing the door, Jemma waited for the sound of the front door opening, the sound that would mark Fitz’s return and the next step into a wonderful unknown.

* * *

Bobbi woke up slowly, squinting her eyes as she tried to see in the partial darkness. It was still dark outside and the only light came from the kitchen seeping in through the bottom of the door. A heavy arm draped across her stomach and she could feel hot breath on her neck. She smiled lightly and turned to face the man next to her. He was awake and he smiled as she ran her thumb across his cheekbone. 

“Hi, love.”

“Hi yourself.”

Hunter kissed her thumb, then her cheek, then pressed his lips to hers. 

“I have to go,” she whispered in the dark, her heart constricting when his face fell.

“Do you  _ have  _ to or do you  _ want  _ to.”

“I have to. They can’t know. Not yet. And Jemma wakes up at the crack of dawn so I need to escape while I still can.”

“Escape. That bad was it?”

“No! It wasn’t bad at all. It was great, amazing really. I would like to do it again. I mean, if you would.” She looked through her lashes at him, her eyes searching desperately for his approval in the dark.

“Being with you at all made me lucky. Being with you again would make me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

She kissed him before standing up, quickly dressing, and retrieving the rest of her belongings. She waved goodnight to him before sneaking out of the room. Mack was still apparently asleep upright on the couch, the T.V. still on just as she and Hunter had last seen him. However, when she went for the door the bright light from the television suddenly went out as a second later the lamp clicked on. 

“Bobbi?” came a deep voice from the couch.

Bobbi froze, shutting her eyes tightly. Slowly, she turned to face Mack. His mouth was slightly open as he looked her up and down.

“Don’t tell Jemma,” she blurted.

“You slept with Hunter!” Mack whisper-shouted causing Bobbi to shush him.

“I said don’t tell Jemma. Please, Mack. Don’t tell anyone. Just give us a bit of time to work out what we are okay.”

“Okay.”

“Wait. Why are you awake?”

“I heard you two. Didn’t want to open my eyes ‘cause it sounded like… well, you know.”

“How? The T.V. was on and we were all the way in Hunter’s room.”

“The T.V. wasn’t on.”

“Then that wasn’t us.”

They both turned to the hallway that held Fitz’s and Simmons’ rooms before looking back at each other.

“Well then… Goodnight, Mack. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. ‘Night.”

* * *

Jemma woke up to the sun shining down on her face. She rubbed her eyes, her fingers trying to dig away her grogginess. Her covers laid at the foot of her bed and she felt cold in her tank top and pajama shorts, despite the February sun seeping through the windows. She turned to check the time on her bedside clock, finding that it was eleven in the morning, hours after she normally got up. She sprang from her bed as she realized what she had done. 

At least, almost done. 

She had nearly tried to sleep with Fitz but in her attempt to wait up for him the previous night, she had fallen asleep on top of her sheets, still facing the door. The feelings that she had for him sat in her chest, making her feel as though she might cry. She knew they existed but had pushed them away. But no longer. Even without the assistance of alcohol, she needed to face her fears and admit her feelings. 

Jemma stood at her door, her hand hovering above the handle for a few moments before she took a deep breath and opened it. She could hear the T.V., the clinking of spoons in cereal bowls, and the voices of Mack and Hunter drifting from the main room. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the door opposite her and the man behind it. She took the three steps to his door, raised her fist to knock, breathed deeply and-- the door pulled open. 

“Oh, Jemma. Hi.”

Jemma felt the wind get knocked out of her, her heart stopping, her fist frozen in midair. A tall, thin woman with dark hair stood before her. She was in a pair of men’s boxer briefs and Fitz’s flannel shirt, his scent still detectable on the fabric. She stood in the doorway somewhat awkwardly, like she needed to get past but was afraid to move, tucking her ruffled hair behind her ear. Jemma felt like she could cry, frozen where she stood.

Ophelia.


	8. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you are a fan of New Girl you will notice that events will begin to be a little bit jumbled. I did that to fit the characters better as well as progress the story the way I envision it going. Trust me, there will still be New Girl inspired shenanigans they just won't be exactly like the show. Thanks for keeping up with this fic! I'm so thankful for all the great feedback! Now enjoy the next chapter.

It took a remarkably long time for Jemma to regain her wits and actually lower her fist from where it was stuck frozen in midair. The feelings for Fitz that were still bubbling in her chest were slowly being replaced by concern for her friend. Somewhere between her leaving the bar and that exact moment, Fitz had lost his mind. 

    “I’m just heading to the bathroom, so…”

    “Right, sorry.”

    Jemma dodged out of the way to let Ophelia past, the woman’s absence clearing the doorway and providing Jemma with a direct line of sight into Fitz’s room. He smiled at her before taking Ophelia’s place in the doorway, leaning against its frame. He was in flannel pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt, his curls ruffled and his eyes still somewhat sleepy. In any other circumstance, Jemma would have admired his cute, disheveled appearance, but now disappointment, hurt, and anger were beginning to clog her throat and infect her mind. 

“Hey, Simmons. Do you need something? Jemma? You alright?”

Fitz reached out to place a hand on her arm, concern tugging the corners of his lips downward as Jemma continued to stare at him. Suddenly, the dam holding in all her emotions broke at the gentle touch of his fingers.

“Ophelia, Fitz!” Jemma burst out, pulling her arm away.

“Yeah, isn’t it great. I called Radcliffe to ask about the job and she picked up. We got to talking and--”

Jemma’s stomach dropped. He had taken her advice and somehow the universe and given him back Ophelia.

“Are you kidding me, Fitz!”

“Sorry?”

“What are you doing? What were you thinking? You two had an awful relationship! She used you, manipulated you! Do you not remember Radcliffe's wedding? God, and that was just what I saw! Are you crazy?”

“She’s changed, she’s different. We had a really deep conversation and decided to give it another shot. I think that this was what was supposed to happen.”

“God, Fitz! She’s using you and you’re letting her.” Jemma whisper yelled, her throat constricting.

“She isn’t using me if anything she’s helping me. Besides, she’s better than the voice in my head who sounds like my dad and tells me I’m not good enough.”

Jemma paused for a second, emotions tumbling about in her body making her feel bruised from the inside. He’d never mentioned his dad like that.

“But she’s saying all the same things,” Jemma said painfully.

“I’m happy, Jem.”

“You’re kidding yourself, Fitz!” Jemma sobbed bitterly, resisting the urge to shake him, “You’re just saying that because you don’t have the courage to actually take a chance on something!”

Right as Fitz was about to retort, Ophelia returned. She kissed Fitz on his quickly reddening cheek and asked him if he wanted to come back into his room.

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Jemma for a second. Just one second--”

He slammed the door before quickly turning back to Jemma who was walking away back down the hall. The T.V. had been muted and all conversation had halted in the main room.

“What’s the problem, Jemma!”

“You’re making a terrible decision, Fitz! You honestly believe that this is what love is? This thing between you and Ophelia.”

“I don’t know. Maybe love is just about timing.”

“Timing. Really? Yes, time will fix the way she manipulates you and degrades you. Of course, it’s timing. Silly me, how did I not see it, it’s timing.”

“It might be! Who are you to say! You don’t know absolutely everything, Jemma!”

“Ugh, I’m so disappointed in you, Fitz!” Jemma yelled, walking into the main room. Hunter and Mack sat as frozen spectators on the couch as Fitz and Jemma’s voices began to escalate and overlap.

“Disappointed! What the hell does that mean?”

“You keep doubting yourself and falling back into this pattern of letting people use you and manipulate you!”

“That’s not what I do! And even if it was, it’s not what I _mean_ to do. And what about you? You don’t doubt every decision you make? You’re unreasonably hard on yourself too you know!”

“This isn’t about me! This is about you making poor life decisions and bottling up your feelings!”

“That’s rich coming from the person who literally invented bottled up emotions!”

“Me! I deal with my feelings I’ll have you know!”

“What? By hiding in the bathroom at a party? By only admitting your feelings when you’re locked on a balcony?”

“That was _your_ fault! You have no idea what I have been feeling!”

“That’s my bloody point! You’re so English!”

“Listen here you hot-blooded Scot--”

“You refuse to feel anything, Jemma! You get into something, panic, and refuse to talk about it!”

“That’s not true! I was ready to face my feelings for y-- You know what,” Jemma sighed, covering her face with her hands for a moment before removing them and making her way back to her room, “I’m not having this fight anymore.”

“Now wait a second,” Fitz said, lightly grabbing her wrist and turning her around slightly, “You started this, we finish it. Say what you wanted to say.”

 Fitz slowly let go and took a step back allowing for her to completely turn around and face him. She took in a shuddery breath and looked into his blue eyes. He stood with his hands on his sides and he nervously licked his lips as the thing Jemma truly wanted to stay slowly slipped down her throat and back into its box. She looked at his shoes and back into his face, her eyes brimming with tears. 

“Fine, you know what I wanted to say? You’re one of my best friends, you know. And you’re so smart and so kind and-- You deserve better than this, Fitz. Better than her. And you’re wrong. It’s not about timing. Because if you love someone, it's simple. Everything that comes with it, that’s the hard part, but love… you don’t doubt love. Love makes all the rubbish things worth it and all the fights and all the hardships are just there to prove you’ll fight for it. And Fitz, you deserve love and someone that tells that voice in your head, the one that tells you that you aren’t good enough, to shut up, not someone who replaces it. You deserve more than a backslide. You deserve something magnificent.”

“Jemma--”

His eyes glassy, Fitz went to reach for her only to grasp onto air, Jemma leaving so quickly it was almost as if she had been sucked away through the front door, still in her pajamas.

* * *

It had been hours since Jemma had left and Fitz was in a panic. He had tried calling her, he had made Mack and Hunter call her, he had called Daisy and then Bobbi only to find out that Bobbi still had Jemma’s phone. A half an hour after he had called Bobbi, she had called back saying that Jemma had picked up her phone but had quickly left with no explanation of where she was going, causing Fitz to worry only slightly less. 

Fitz’s determination to find Jemma had begun to irritate Ophelia around hour three resulting in another tremendous fight and Ophelia storming out the door. 

“Oh no. Come back. How we have missed you,” Hunter had deadpanned sarcastically at the door as it had slammed behind her, resulting in him being hit with a well aimed pillow by Fitz.

At eleven at night, a full twelve hours after she had left, Fitz paced back and forth in front of the television as Mack and Hunter sat on the couch watching him. “She probably just needed to get away for a bit. There’s no need to panic, mate,” Hunter reassured for the hundredth time that day. 

“I know, I know, I know. It’s just…”

“She’s an adult, Fitz. She can handle herself.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s just that we were having an argument…”

“Well aware of the argument, Turbo.”

“And then she leaves and I don’t… I don’t like leaving things like that. All the things I said they aren’t what I meant and—“

“It’s okay, Turbo,” Mack soothed, standing up and gently moving Fitz to sit on the couch. Fitz laid his head in his hands as his leg began to shake. Thoughts spun in his head like a top, no one thought staying in the forefront long enough to make any sense. Noticing the spiral pattern, Mack and Hunter stayed the prescribed distance away, the distance that wasn’t intrusive but still solidified solidarity. 

“What’s going through your head, Fitz?” Mack asked, sitting on the edge of the couch.

“I just keep thinking about what she said. The look in her eyes. How she said I was making a mistake,” Fitz replied, getting quieter after every sentence.

Hunter opened his mouth to say something before Mack coughed loudly and shook his head. Fitz looked between them before narrowing his eyes.

“What?” he asked slowly.

“We’ve got to ask, why did you do it? Now don’t give me that look because Jemma asked it too and we were all thinking it. We’ve done this a million times, Fitz, but by the look in your eye and the fact you let Ophelia storm out of here without protest leaves us to believe that this will be a record shatteringly short stint for the two of you. And yet, the fact that this is occurring at all is, well, bewildering.”

“I don’t know,” Fitz exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and beginning to pace again, “We just started talking. I didn’t even mean to call her. Jemma convinced me to talk to Radcliffe about that job but Ophelia picked up. And you guys had left the bar and so I was just stuck with a bunch of strangers on Valentine’s Day. She asked what I was doing, I said where I was, and then we talked some more in person and here we are.”

    “That’s not the full story is it, Turbo,” Mack said, looking over Fitz as if he were X-Raying his soul.

    “What do you want me to say?”

    “You could admit what scared you so bad that you slid back to Ophelia,” Hunter chimed in, lounging back into the couch,

    “You heard what Jemma said, she got the gist of it.”

    “Oh come on! She missed a key detail and you know it. Spit it out so we can move forward in this therapy session.” Mack nodded and turned to face Fitz who, with his two friends sitting before him on the couch suddenly felt as though he were on trial.

    “I don’t know--”

    “Fitz!”

    “Fine! I’m in love with Jemma! Happy!”

Mack’s and Hunter’s eyebrows raised at the declaration as Fitz took a large, shaking breath and continued on, “I got scared that I would lose her if I said anything, so I went back to Ophelia because at least I know the twists and turns that come with that and there isn’t any risk. But now I drove Jemma away anyway and none of it matters and I’ve got Ophelia that I’ve got to deal with so all of you were right! I’m an idiot coward who just manages to make bigger messes than what he was avoiding!” 

Fitz slammed his fist against the sliding door that separated the hallway from the main room before retreating to his room, the door shutting surprisingly softly as all energy drained from his body. 

Mack glared at Hunter, who sat with his mouth slightly open, before shutting his eyes and leaning back on the couch. 

“I told you not to do that, Hunter,” Mack grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Yeah. But at least he admitted his feelings. That’s a start,” Hunter added, trying his best at cheer but failing miserably.

“Sure, a start.”

At that, Mack got up from the couch dejectedly and made his way to his room, his tired feet barely lifting from the ground as he walked. Hunter rubbed his face and scalp as if trying to wipe away any feelings of guilt. Just as he was about to make his way to his room, his phone pinged with a text from Bobbi.

 

_Jemma’s at Daisy’s. Said she’s going to stay there for a bit. Don’t know how long but probably a few days. I think she’s heartbroken. How is it on your end?_

 

_Fitz is in the same boat._

 

_Can’t they just admit their feelings already?_

 

_I wish. It’ll happen, though. I know it._

 

_How?_

 

 _Easy, love. Jemma said it herself. Things can be complicated but love, love is simple._  


	9. 4,722 Minutes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not linked to a particular New Girl episode as most of the rest of the chapter are and will be. However, this chapter will tie back into the New Girl plot in a way that makes sense for what episodes I was inspired by, where I want this fic to go, and the characters. Therefore, to balance and add weight to the comedy, this chapter is also sadder than usual but don’t worry we will return to comedy very soon, as in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like it as much as I love writing it!

The little diner was near empty and the old jukebox in the corner seemed to loop the same track like an actual broken record. It didn’t matter, it was far away and Jemma Simmons was starving. After having picked up her phone from Bobbi’s, Jemma decided it was best if she didn’t go home for a bit but instead drive for miles until she eventually needed to stop for food. Her stomach ached with hunger and the dull pain of heartbreak as she sat down at one of the booths, studying the swirling blue pattern of the tabletop. 

She had been so close,  _ so close,  _ to admitting her feelings to Fitz only to end up feeling like she had been gut-punched. All the things she had said to him swam in her brain like marbles in ink, only visible when they got close to the glass behind her eyes, while the thing she wanted to say sat in her chest like a weight.  _ I love you _ . Why were those words so difficult. She crossed her arms on the table and let her head fall, her hair falling about her face and blocking out the blue walls of the diner until the waiter’s voice caused her to spring back up. 

She placed her order, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and a cup of tea, and then sat back into the over-plush cushion. Her eyes traveled around the diner, the blueness of it all suddenly overwhelming her. Whoever had designed the place must not have understood the psychology of color. She smiled to herself softly, remembering a conversation she had had with Fitz on the subject. It had nearly driven Daisy insane as they had sat in their favorite little coffee shop, The Bus, pointing out the biological reaction one had to each element of the place. Slowly, the smile slipped from her face, the warmth of The Bus drifting from her mind’s eye as the blueness of her surroundings poured into her stomach like molten lead. Yes, the diner was designed quite poorly.

Jemma pulled out her phone, desperate to distract herself from her surroundings. Her heart fluttered slightly when she saw all the missed calls and texts from Fitz (as well as Hunter and Mack but Jemma knew who those were truly from) before dropping down like a butterfly with a clipped wing. She felt sick as emotions mixed together in her body like metals in a crucible, different feelings bubbling up and popping in her throat. 

There was a missed message from Bobbi and one from Daisy, both checking to make sure she was alright. As she tried to send a reply, the blue bar that indicates the progress of sending stopped half way and Jemma frustratingly noted that she had zero cell reception. 

“Yeah, you can’t call either,” came a voice from somewhere behind her, “That’s the beauty of the place.” She turned to look at the man who had spoken. He sat at the counter, languidly drinking (far too early in the day) from his beer bottle, seemingly uninterested in anything around him. From what Jemma could see, he had a strong frame, dark eyes, a strong jaw with dark unkempt stumble, and an air of indifference and detachment that made him somewhat hard to want to communicate with. He turned on his stool to face her fully, his brown eyes scanning her face. She looked at him quizzically before he spoke again.

“Maveth’s Diner is a great place to shut out the world.”

“What makes you think I’m shutting out the world?”

“Never said that. Was talking about myself.”

“And yet you directed it at me.”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing what looks like pajamas and second you’re here at all. No one comes to Maveth’s on purpose. That’s why no one is ever here for long.”

“And yet, it seems you are here quite often, judging by your demeanor.”

“Can’t seem to stay away. Like the atmosphere, I guess.”

Jemma scoffed, “Or you haven’t found anything to make you want to leave.”

“Or that.”

He downed the rest of his drink, stood up from the counter, and sat across from her, picking up a sugar packet from the edge of the table and playing with it. She looked at him, her eyes scanning over his shadowed face to his calloused hands.

“I’m Jemma,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, holding out her hand. Putting the sugar packet down, he shook her outstretched hand.

“Will Daniels.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was getting on eight o’clock the next evening, Jemma having returned to the little diner as to avoid Daisy’s persistent Fitz related questions, and Jemma sat down at the same booth with Will. It had taken the entirety of her first day sitting in the diner, but Jemma had finally warmed up to the somewhat detached Will Daniels. They had talked about their lives outside of Maveth’s, where they were from, what they did for a living. Jemma was somewhat taken aback but not completely surprised to find that Will was a military man, more specifically a pilot, and she enjoyed talking about her career as a teacher. The topics of conversation blended together from jobs to family to friends. It almost felt like a very strange first date, the feeling amplified when the waiter brought over wine. Jemma felt giggly, the weight of emotions she had entered the diner with the previous day buried away and covered up by conversation.

“And then the sink exploded and shot water everywhere. Fitz was slipping around trying to stop the sink, completely drenched, while the shower refused to turn off. It was like the bathroom had become a water park. By the end of it, all we could do was laugh.”

Will laughed along with Jemma at the story, smiling softly at the way her eyes lit up while she was telling it.

“I actually have a video of it. My other roommate took it, which at the time was very unhelpful but turned out to be quite amusing in the long run,” Jemma said, searching her purse for her phone.

Jemma pulled out her phone and scanned through her videos before locating what she was searching for. Will moved to sit next to her on her side of the booth as she turned her phone sideways and held it out in front of both of them. 

The video played, Hunter’s laugh from behind the camera booming in the quiet diner. Jemma smiled at the screen as Fitz tumbled to the ground after trying to stop her from falling only to go down with her, their laughter cutting over the sound of water. 

“That’s Fitz,” Jemma murmured softly, her free hand moving slightly to point at the screen before bringing it up to pick at her lip. 

“I figured,” Will said, looking at her sadly for a moment before staring back at the video, “You mention him a lot. His name’s like your favorite word. Seems like a little more than a best friend.” 

Something shattered inside Jemma. Hearing her feelings repeated outside her mind by someone who was a stranger to the situation, knowing they were obvious, and yet unfulfilled crushed her somehow. She tucked her hair behind her ear before turning the phone off with a click.

“No. He has a girlfriend and we… we’re just friends.”

Jemma looked at the clock behind the counter, jumping slightly at the time.

“I really should be going. Thank you for the conversation,” Jemma rushed grabbing her purse as Will slid out of the booth to let her past. 

“Goodnight,” he called as she walked away.

“Goodnight.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was a dark rainy day as Jemma, Bobbi, and Daisy sat on Daisy’s bed discussing whatever popped into their head while  _ Friends _ played on the television in the background, a time-honored distraction the trio had created when one of them was going through heartache, or in this case a heartbreak. 

Fitz was still with Ophelia, the woman grasping onto Fitz in a way no one could quite comprehend. Unbeknownst to the girls, Fitz had isolated himself since he had admitted he loved Jemma to Mack and Hunter. He had been unable to reach Jemma, not knowing she had been without cell service each time he had tried to contact and decided it was best to give her her distance. This allowed Ophelia to find her niche and soothe his pains about what she assumed, or decided to assume, was a fracturing friendship. However, from the outside, it just appeared as though Fitz and Ophelia were as tight as ever, a thought that hurt Jemma deeply and frustrated everyone else. Thus the distraction circle.

Bobbi had been rather vague about her love life for the past couple of days, sneaking out of the house and returning slightly disheveled, which was endlessly intriguing to Daisy, who only became more obsessed with something once she heard it was a secret. As Daisy tried to piece together the identity of Bobbi’s mystery man, emboldened by learning that Mack was somehow clued in, Jemma sat distractedly staring out a window. 

“Jem?”

Daisy snapped in front of Jemma’s face, her eyebrows raised as she looked at her friend.

“Sorry, I was somewhere else. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m just hungry.”

“We could get some food. I think the deli around the corner is still open,” Bobbi said.

“I’m okay. I think I’m just going to get something by myself. Thanks for today and text me if you figure out or admit who mystery man is.”

Jemma drove until she reached Maveth’s, finding her place at what was slowly becoming her usual booth. She felt lonely anyway, even among her friends, might as well have a reason to feel cut off from the world. She sat at the booth sadly, absentmindedly scrolling through her photos, the only app that didn’t require some sort of signal at the moment. She happened upon the video she had shown Will, watching it without the volume. The image danced in front of her eyes, Fitz’s smile somehow brightening the screen. She could almost hear his laugh as the two of them fell to the wet floor. She rewound it to watch it again, to watch as Fitz tried desperately to hold back the water before stopping everything to catch her. She paused the video, noticing something in his face she hadn’t before, something in his eyes as he caught her as she slipped. As he went to catch her there was a subtle bit of fear as if he was worried she would be hurt, deep concern etched around his eyes before slipping away as laughter took its place, the both of them soaking wet and laughing on the floor. But, once again, there was something she hadn’t seen at first. This time, however, she couldn’t place it. The soft smile that defied the laughter, being far too soft for hilarity. The way he looked at her completely as he checked to see she was okay… Suddenly the screen went to black as the power ran out. Frustrated, she slammed the phone down on the table. Somehow she had lost phone Fitz too.

“Jemma.”

She looked up to see Will walking towards her. She shook the hair out of her face, hoping he hadn’t seen her little spectacle. 

“Will, it’s nice to see you,” she stammered, trying to plaster on a happy face.

“ I see you haven’t cut your ties with Maveth’s yet.”

“I like the scrambled eggs,” Jemma replied simply.

“That’s impossible. No one stays for the food.”

Jemma laughed softly as Will sat down across from her. He looked at her kindly leading Jemma to believe he had indeed seen her slam her phone on the table for apparently no reason, but, thankfully, he didn’t mention it.

They talked for a few hours, though the conversation was somehow denser than usual, the air heavy. They talked about loss, about heartbreak, each story darkening with the setting sun. Will mentioned the girl that had broken his heart, dumped him in the very diner they sat. How he had come back ever since, unable to shake the diner’s maddening hold. Finally, the rain-drenched sun crept behind the horizon, causing the room to glow its deep blue. Without realizing it, despair began to creep into Jemma’s eyes, causing them to water. Every pent up feeling felt like it would burst through the crack in the dam, break her apart completely until Will spoke.

“You know, I hate this diner. I’ve been coming here for years just to wallow in it. But then I met you.” She looked at him, her mouth open slightly, and took in what he had just said.

“Would you like to go somewhere else then?” Jemma asked, suddenly feeling rather brave, “Maybe get something to drink?”

“I’d like that.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

No one had heard Jemma enter that night, everyone being asleep in their rooms. The next morning began as they all had the past few days. Mack woke up first, waved as Bobbi snuck out of Hunter’s room, made himself some cereal, and sat down to watch the news. Hunter was up shortly after and Fitz after him. They sat in silence, eating their breakfast and watching whatever was on without really absorbing anything. Suddenly a door that hadn’t been open in 4,722 minutes (Fitz had been quietly keeping track) closed with a quiet click. All three heads turned to stare at the woman before them. 

“Jemma,” Fitz breathed softly, standing up.

“Hi,” Jemma said, smiling lightly.

“You’re back!” Hunter exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and embracing her. She laughed and hugged him back.

“So, what made you come back?” Hunter asked as Jemma found her place on the couch.

“I missed home,” she replied simply, her eyes briefly connecting with Fitz’s before they both quickly looked away. 

“Home missed you too,” Mack said, smiling.

“So, what’s new with everyone?” Jemma asked brightly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she clicked her heels nervously. 

“Nothing much, really,” Hunter said, glossing over a key something that had taken place on Valentine’s Day and every day since.

“What about you?” Mack asked.

“Actually, I met someone,” Jemma said, her cheeks blushing a rosy pink, “His name is Will Daniels. I met him in a diner the day I left and we sort of made it official yesterday.”

“I’m happy for you, Simmons,” said Fitz from the corner of the couch, much to the shock of the other two men who turned to look at him quickly. Ignoring his friend’s stares, he smiled at her softly before going to the kitchen to get more cereal.

No one spoke for a few minutes, using the television as an easy distraction before going about their daily business. Mack needed to continue his studying and training for his police exam. He had decided that many of his skills translated well to becoming part of the police force and he was making his way quickly towards his goal. Hunter had “papers he needed to file” at the office while Fitz had a meeting with Radcliffe and then a date with Ophelia.

Later that night, Fitz made his way to his room. He had told no one about the horrific date he had just returned from. Ophelia had been chatting away about her plans for the new apartment she had rented as Fitz had been absently playing with his food, his mind wandering to Jemma. It suddenly dawned on him that there was no room in his heart for two people, only Jemma Simmons. Though it pained him as it hit him, he knew there was no way around it. He was desperately in love with Jemma. Suddenly enveloped by this overwhelming thought, Fitz had looked up from his meal, dropped his fork on his plate, and promptly broke up with Ophelia. What happened after that had been quite a scene and Fitz decided it was best if he never went to that restaurant ever again. What hurt him wasn’t the breakup though, it was that he had lost his shot with Jemma. He loved her too much to try and come between any happiness she had found in that far away diner. It was his fault anyway, he’d gotten back with Ophelia and besides, Jemma only saw him as a friend. 

He retreated into his room, laid back on his pillow, and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his photos as one does when they have nothing left to do and happened upon a video Hunter had taken a few months back. He had been incredibly unhelpful in the actual incident but had found the thing so funny he had sent it to everyone. Fitz played the video, smiling as he and Jemma tumbled to the bathroom floor, laughing, as water shot from the sink. Only Fitz could see what Jemma couldn’t; he could see the look written so plainly upon his face as he caught her, the look of love he gave only to Jemma Simmons.


	10. No Use Crying Over Spilled Beans

It had been a little over three weeks since Jemma had returned and things were finally starting to go back to normal. Everything went back into the usual routine, who woke up first, who left for work last, who ate what, and who yelled at who for eating the last of what. And yet, everyone seemed on edge waiting for something or someone to disturb the peace, as if the feeling of ease was just there to cover up underlying tensions that had been building below the surface since Jemma had come back. It was as if they were all waiting for tensions to be released. And release they did in the form of earthquake Daisy.

    It was a relaxed Saturday afternoon. Jemma was out training for a charity race with Will, Mack and Fitz were playing video games, and Hunter was “filing paperwork.” The day was a peaceful one with Mack even noting how nice the weather seemed. Minutes after he had uttered the words clouds began to form overhead as if the heavens themselves had heard him. Just as a soft pitter-patter of rain hit the windows, the door burst open, nearly hitting the wall behind it as if it had been blown back by a shock wave. Mack jumped as Fitz screamed, the dramatic entrance poorly timed with a jump scare. They turned to see Daisy as she slammed the door shut behind her, still facing them. Her eyes were sparkling mischievously as she smiled brightly at them, plopping herself down at the end of the couch. Mack paused the game, something telling him this conversation wouldn’t end quickly. 

    “Is Hunter here?” she asked.

    Mack and Fitz looked to each other before shaking their heads, resulting in a cheshire smile from Daisy.

    “Perfect. Guess what I’ve figured out.” She leaned forward, her eyes twinkling with knowledge as her smile brought a childish youth to her face. Mack opened his mouth to reply as Fitz waited for Daisy to inevitably cut them off. Sure enough, she did, in record time at that. Mack hadn’t even said anything yet.

    “I’ve figured out Bobbi’s mystery man. Now, what I’ve stumbled upon is secret but I can’t keep it to myself and I am definitely not supposed to tell Jemma so you two are my only outlet--

    “No no no no,” Fitz spluttered, standing up from the couch, “I’m terrible at keeping secrets, especially from Jemma.”

    “Fine. I’ll just tell Mack.”

    “I already know,” Mack said, looking at Daisy with an almost pain in his eyes.

    “You do! How?”

    “I saw them.”

    “You saw them! And you’re not scarred for life?”

    “Not like that! I saw her leave the first time it happened. She told me not to tell.”

    “Guys please don’t--”

    “You knew about Bobbi and Hunter and didn’t say anything?”

    Fitz placed his hands over his ears, comically trying to block out what he had heard as if it were a slow-motion scene, but it was too late. His hands moved from his ears to cover his face as Daisy and Mack talked on. Slowly, he removed his hands from his face to reveal a look of pain similar to that of Mack’s.

    “Wait. Bobbi and Hunter?” Fitz cut in, halting the conversation. Daisy nodded, her eyebrows raised as she made an “I know! Can you believe it!” noise.

    “It all makes sense, though,” Daisy noted, her hands open palm up in front of her, following her intonations, “I mean the flirting, the sneaking around. I’m actually more disappointed in myself than anything. I mean I should have seen it.”

    Mack nodded while Fitz stood with his hands of his sides before fear began to burn inside him causing him to slowly melt down onto the couch.

    “Fitz? You okay?” Daisy asked.

    “Jemma’s going to figure it out.”

    Daisy scoffed, “She hasn’t yet.”

    “But now I know and she can read it on me. I told you, I can’t keep a secret from Jemma.”

“Well except for the one about how you--” Mack interjected before seeing the burning look in Fitz’s eye as he shook his head vigorously. Daisy’s face turned to delighted curiosity, momentarily forgetting the Bobbi-Hunter drama, as she narrowed her eyes at her friend.

    “Fitz--”

    “I don’t have a secret from Jemma,” Fitz rushed.

    “I never said-- You have a secret from Jemma?”

    “No.”

    “Yes,” Mack muttered.

    Fitz stared daggers at Mack as if threatening him to take it back.

    “No…” Mack corrected slowly.

    “Spill, Fitz.”

    “No, Daisy.”

    “Spill.”

    ‘Fine! I love Jemma!” He shut his eyes tight and clenched his raised hands into fists, “Why do I keep shouting that!” Fitz rubbed his hands furiously down his face while Daisy sat with her mouth agape before she started giggling. Fitz’s eyes snapped to Daisy as she began to laugh outright.

    “What?” Fitz snapped, his heart beating rather quickly.

    “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Daisy laughed, wiping her eyes, “It’s just that… of course you do, Fitz.”

    “What does that mean?” Fitz stammered, trying to find his bearings.

    “I just mean that it’s obvious. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that, it’s totally obvious. I mean, the only person who can’t see you love Jemma is Jemma. But, that’s how it goes, isn’t it? If the person we like can’t know we like them subconsciously we make sure they don't see our true affections, right?” The two men looked at her confused leading her to roll her eyes and mutter, “Idiots,” under her breath before smiling at them affectionately. 

    “Daisy, Jemma can’t know,” Fitz pleaded, looking at his friend seriously. Daisy crossed her heart as the front door softly swung open.

    “Hello,” called Jemma as she hung up her things. There was a chorus of welcome from those on the couch as Jemma sat down in the vacant chair by the window. She tightened her ponytail so that the band was closer to her head as she began to talk.

    “Does anyone know what’s going on with Bobbi? She was supposed to train with me today but canceled last minute. I guess it all worked out because I brought Will along but it’s just so strange. She normally doesn’t do things like that. Why are you all making those faces?”

    “Faces? What faces? This is my face. No other face, right guys.” Fitz’s eyes were wide, words rushing from his mouth like a raging river. Daisy shot a glare at Fitz, her eyes becoming dangerous, but it was too late. 

    “You know something,” Jemma stated, standing up from her chair and walking towards Fitz. 

    “No, I don't,” laughed Fitz nervously. He stood up to get away but was cut off by Jemma. She stood close to him, her chin raised so that they were nearly nose to nose.

    “What do you know?”

    “Nothing!”

    “Fold, Fitz. Fold,” Jemma repeated as Fitz shook his head. But the cracks were forming and finally, the dam broke.

    “Daisy told us that Bobbi and Hunter are sleeping together!”

    “What!”

    The door opened again and Hunter walked in. Jemma stood with her hand over her mouth as Fitz pinched the bridge of his nose. Daisy was trying not to laugh nervously as Hunter slowly looked at the scene in front of him.

    “They know, Hunter,” Mack commented.

    Hunter looked to Fitz and back to Mack, “You told one of the mind readers, Mack.”

    “No, that was Daisy.”

    “Yep, that was me. Totally on me.”

    Hunter turned to Jemma, his eyes apologetic, “Listen, Jemma. I am so sorry you had to find out like this, truly. But, can we all take a moment to appreciate what’s occurred. I mean, I’ve really done it this time, right. Mack, why are you shaking your head?” It was a while before Jemma stopped chasing him. 

    Bobbi arrived a half hour later. Everyone was gathered in the living room in silence, the tension of the group dynamic slowly building up to form aftershocks. She sat next to Hunter on the couch, their knees touching in solidarity. Daisy, who sat with her feet tucked under her next to Mack, continued to sport her mischievous smile as she looked on at the proceedings, having secretly been tired of everyone playing calm and glad that things would finally be aired out, at least a little. 

    “Listen, we were going to tell you all eventually but we needed to figure out what it was first,” Bobbi sighed.

    “And have you?” Jemma asked, her arms folded as she sat in the chair by the window. 

    “Yes.”

    “Not really.”

    Hunter looked at Bobbi with confusion etched on his face leading Bobbi to roll her eyes.

    “Okay, when did it start?”

    “Valentine’s Day.”

    “A month! This has been going on for a month! The moon has completed an entire orbit since this has started.”

    “Why do you start talking like an astronomer when you’re upset.”

    “A whole orbit, Mack!”

    Jemma turned to face the trio on the couch, Daisy with her legs crossed, Fitz trying to blend into the couch, and Mack who looked as though he wasn’t sure how he got there.

    “How long have you known?” Jemma interrogated, staring at Daisy.

    “A few days.”

    “Mack?”

    “Since it happened. Bobbi said not to tell and I’m not a snitch.”

    “Hey, don’t look at me like that muscle man. Be impressed I kept it for a few days!”

    “Simmons, I would just like to point out that I told you pretty much immediately.”

    Jemma glared at Fitz and he disappeared back into the couch.

    “If we’re airing everything out then it might also be important to inform everyone that we did do it in every room of the apartment.”

    “Even mine?” Jemma whined as Hunter nodded, holding up his pointer finger to indicate the number of times. Fitz hit his head on the back of the couch with a thud.

    “Didn’t need to know that,” Daisy said amongst the chorus of groans. Mack gave Hunter a disgusted look as Bobbi buried her face in her hands before speaking.

    “Okay, if we’re spilling the beans and all, what do you want to know.”

    “How can we trust you won’t be lying,” Jemma questioned, raising her eyebrows.

    “You can’t seriously be mad, Jemma,” said Hunter almost impatiently.

    “No. I’m not mad.” The room suddenly turned cold as the rain beat down on the windows. Jemma got up from her chair and made her way to her room. Bobbi went to follow but Daisy shook her head as she herself got up from the couch and went to talk to her friend.

    “I would just like to say that I think what I did was brave,” Fitz muttered, making his way to his own room.

    Jemma sat on her bed for half an hour, mulling over the information she had learned. One of her best friends was sleeping with her roommate and she had had no clue. Could she not be trusted with the information? Were they all just sitting upon a mountain of secrets?

    “I just feel as though I don’t know what’s going on anymore like no one is telling me anything,” Jemma said as she picked at the fabric of her pillow.

    “You know that’s not true. None of us knew, well except Mack but he wasn’t supposed to know. Bobbi just wanted a bit of privacy is all.”

    “Daisy, you were the one who pried.”

    “Exactly, that’s how I know. Jemma, where are you going?”

    “I’m going to have a truth circle.”

    “Ooh, bad idea. _Bad idea_. Jemma, come back!”

    Jemma marched across the hall to Fitz’s room as Daisy fell off the bed, pulling herself up rather ungracefully while the noise lead Bobbi to leave the main room and come and investigate. Fitz’s door was open and Jemma could see him through the doorway. He sat on his bed with Hunter, holding what looked almost like a sonic screwdriver as Mack sat in the chair next to Fitz’s desk. The trio was having some sort of conversation about one of Fitz’s designs, presumably the one in his hand. Daisy trailed behind Jemma and Bobbi behind Daisy as they all entered the room, halting the conversation.

    “Simmons--”

    “Truth circle.”

    “What?”

    “Truth circle. Mack, Hunter was the one who deleted your Fallout save but blamed it on the XBox. Fitz, you didn’t forget drinking the rest of that whisky, Mack drank it. And Hunter, Fitz spilled your body wash and then filled it with water and that’s why it was runny.”

    The three men sat with their mouths agape before they turned on each other. Daisy took in a deep breath as Bobbi put her face in her hands. This couldn’t end well. 

    “My mum sent that whisky special.”

    “I can’t believe you deleted that save. It was a year old!”

    “Your save, I’ve been washing myself with soap backwash.”

    “You survived, Hunter.”

    “You know what didn’t survive. My save!”

    “Well, Jemma was the one who deleted your NFL match.”

    “That was an accident. I was recording a documentary and it canceled the recording. And Fitz was a part of that.”

    “I was present when it occurred, doesn’t mean I was a part of it.”

    “You helped me cover it up!”

    “Ok, true. Did do that.”

    “See, that’s not bloody fair at all. You two can’t conspire together.”

    “We didn’t conspire.”

    “Exactly! It’s just impossible for Fitz to keep a secret from me. Fitz? What was that face?”

    “Nothing! I didn’t make a face!”

    Daisy’s eyes went wide and she looked at Mack who was already exchanging a fearful glance with Hunter.

    “Oh come on, Fitz! We’ve already done this today and we’re in the truth circle. Just fold!”

    “I didn’t make a face, Simmons.”

    Their words began to overlap as their spectator’s heads swung from one to the other like they were watching a tennis match.

    “Jemma, maybe you should just let it go,” Daisy stressed, looking at her friend pleadingly.

    “Do you know?”

    “Uh…”

    “Wait…” The room stilled reminding them of the rain outside, “You all know, don’t you!” There was a hint of pain in Jemma’s voice, an almost childish feeling of being left out of the ever-tightening loop, as she looked at the faces that began to swim before her.

    “Fine, Jemma,” Fitz sighed, slumping his shoulders with such force that his mattress creaked, causing Jemma to turn and face him. Fitz tucked his chin to his chest for a half a second before looking at Jemma directly.

    “I broke up with Ophelia nearly a month ago. I didn’t tell you because of our fight. I guess I was embarrassed or something, didn’t want to admit I was wrong. But you were right and I should have told you, thanked you really.”

    It was a good thing that Jemma was only looking at Fitz or she would have seen the surprise on everyone else’s faces. No one had known that the breakup had occurred. It was true, Fitz didn’t mention Ophelia, but they just thought it was because he knew their feelings about her. 

    “I told Daisy this morning, more like had it forced out of me. And Mack and Hunter only learned a few days ago. You weren’t out of the loop or anything. Trust me, you’d be the last person I would want to keep secrets from. It wasn’t even a secret just more of a gap in truth, I guess.”

    Jemma stood there for a moment and then nodded.

    “So… can we be done with the truth circle now?” Daisy said, breaking the awkward silence, “And not just for today, like forever please.”

* * *

    It was a warm Sunday evening as Hunter, Fitz, Daisy, and Mack sat in camping chairs on the race sidelines. Jemma, Will, and Bobbi were all in the race and the group was waiting anxiously for them to pass so they could cheer them on before being able to sit back down out of the heat. Jemma was still struggling with the idea of her friend sleeping with her roommate. She was subtly frustrated and not being able to understand her friend as well as being out of the loop so she took her frustration out by running. Bobbi was ahead of Jemma, as was Will, leaving Jemma at the back. Jemma was by no means slow or out of shape but she couldn’t keep up with the long fast legs of her friend and boyfriend. 

    “He knows he could run with her, right. It’s not like the Olympics or anything,” Fitz commented, taking a water from their cooler. 

    “Which one was he?” Hunter took a sip of his beer and strained his neck to look at the runners who had just passed.

    “The dark haired one who just ran past.”

    “Oh… the one with a hog face.”

    Daisy did a spit take with her water as she burst out laughing. Fitz smiled. He did have a hog face.

    “Here comes Bobbi.” Hunter said a few minutes later as he stood up and began cheering wildly, so wildly that people began to stare. He was wearing a white shirt that said _Ba Ba Ba, Ba Bobbi Ran_ in red iron on letters. She had actually giggled when she saw it. 

    “Now we wait for Jemma,” Hunter said, settling into his camp chair. A couple of minutes passed before Fitz shouted that he could see her coming down the road. They began cheering for her, Mack and Daisy almost doing a cheerleader routine. She smiled at them before stopping where she stood. Her fellow runners began to go around her, some shooting angry glares at her as they did so.

    “Jem! Jemma! You okay?” Fitz was up against the barrier, his hands cupped around his mouth as he tried to amplify his voice over the cheering. Jemma jogged over to them but didn’t answer as Fitz put his hand on her shoulder. She was staring at Hunter’s shirt.

    “Bobbi let you wear that?”

    All heads turned to Hunter as he looked down at his shirt and back up at Jemma.

    “Yeah, it made her laugh. She said it was funny.”

    “Oh my God.” 

    Fitz called her name as Jemma sprinted ahead. She had a burning stitch in her side and her lungs were on fire, but she had finally spotted the swinging blonde ponytail. With her last bit of energy, she made her way to Bobbi. Hearing the call of her name, Bobbi slowed down to a walk, turning her head to see Jemma, face flushed and breathing heavily, running towards her.

    “Jemma, what the h--”

    “You like Hunter.”

    “What?”

    “The shirt. You thought it was funny. You laughed.”

    “I don’t get what--”

    “You like him, it’s the only explanation for thinking that’s funny.”

    Bobbi stared off ahead, her eyes seeing past the road before she sighed deeply.

    “Oh my God,” Bobbi whispered, her hands on her hips as she walked.

    “You didn’t tell me or Daisy because you knew that one of us would figure it out and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself yet. But you like him.”

    “I like him,” Bobbi sighed. She turned to Jemma, a shadow of a smile passed over her face, “Can we just say that I didn’t tell you because I was being a bitch. I feel better about that.”

    “Sure.”

    “You can’t tell anyone though, please.”

    “I promise. But you should let Daisy in on it. She’ll just figure it out anyway.”

    “Yeah. Now come on, let’s finish the race,” Bobbi said as she began to run again. Jemma took a deep breath before running again, her feet feeling like they might fall off.

    It was dark when they made it to the finish line. Jemma looked like she wanted to pass out as she leaned on Bobbi for support. The blowup arch at the finish line was having the air let out of it as they turned the corner but Jemma could hear cheers coming from under the arch. Hunter, Mack, and Fitz were holding up the arch to let them run under it as it tried to sink to the floor while Daisy did a cheer with pantomimed pom poms. Will, who had finished a half hour before, had been called to work with an emergency but had written a sticky note to Jemma with a smiley face and a heart. After they crossed the finish line, Bobbi went and hugged Hunter, wrapping her arms around his neck while Mack thanked the man packing up the arch for waiting, handing him a ten dollar bill.

    “Winner,” Fitz laughed as Jemma collapsed on the ground. She half-heartedly hit his shins with her fist. Fitz bent down and lifted Jemma up. She spun around, her legs almost giving out again as she clung onto Fitz’s neck. 

    “It was all uphill.”

    “That might be an overstatement, Simmons.”

    “I didn’t see you run it, Dr. Fitzy.”

    He smiled before helping her walk back to the car, her legs slowly becoming mush with every step. Daisy made her way over to Fitz and Jemma, sticking the note Will left to Jemma’s forehead before getting in the car. Fitz opened the door for Jemma but she turned to face him before she got in.

    “I’m sorry about Ophelia, Fitz,” she said, her chin pointed up so she could see past the sticky note.

    “That’s okay. It’s all for the better really.”

    “Absolutely. Now I’m going to pass out in the back of this car.”

    “Sounds good,” he laughed, shutting the door behind her.

    And they drove back home just as it started to rain.


End file.
